Key of Chak Chel
by PridakArbiter
Summary: This is a Shadow of the Tomb Raider crossover with the superhero web serial Worm. Lara Croft finds herself at the end of Shadow of the Tomb Raider being ritually sacrificed to save the world. The epilogue in SOTR suggests she survives somehow, this story explores the possibility that she didn't. Instead, something else happened.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

All the way up to the very end, I didn't want to acknowledge that I was going to die. Who could put into words the sudden horrifying revelation that you must die so the world could live? Who could even stop the knee jerk reaction to cry and wail at the world and fight tooth and nail for life?

The revelation I had as I realized that in order to stop the Mayan apocalypse, to stop Kukulkan from destroying the world, a god must die. Of course a god was immortal so to kill a god meant that it's mortal vessel must die.

It just so happened that I ended up as the god, Kukulkan's, mortal vessel, my skin shone with his divine light and my being felt suffused with power. Dominguez had used the power to teleport and shoot blasts of what must've been solar fire. I felt that I had those powers too, but there was almost a film over my thoughts, ever since I rejected the perfect world. A membrane I would have to push through to utilize such vast cosmic power.

I dimly thought back to the choice I made a few seconds before, where I chose to move forward, accept the tragedy of the past. If I had known that the choice was either the perfect past or this uncertain future, I doubted I would have the strength of will to choose saving everyone again.

Crimson Fire, the priestess queen of the Yaaxil tribe barred her deformed and misshapen teeth into something similar to a grimace, or perhaps a smile of painful sympathy and held out a mask, the gilded mask of royalty, the crown of the Queen of the Damned. With shaking hands I donned the mask, allowing it to settle firmly across the bridge of my nose and turned away to stare out at the eclipse far above.

I had come this far, why should I falter now? I thought of the people my theft of the dagger had brought increasing destruction too. To the millions hurt by the floods, earthquakes, and fiery hail, and I steeled myself. Perhaps, I did deserve death, after all. All I had brought to the world, all I had brought to my friends and family seemed to be ruin and sorrow. Yes, I could amend my failings and exult in self sacrifice.

I climbed onto the sacrificial altar and reclined, not bothering to remove my weapons, the trusty bow and firearms digging into my back. My faithful weapons, so marred by blood and death, it was right for them to witness my end. I exhaled readying myself for the strike, as Crimson Fire raised the Key of Chak Chel into the air.

I closed my eyes, and finally dispelled the last idle fantasies of grabbing my pistol and shooting Crimson Fire, fighting my way out of the Yaaxil and saving the world another way. I knew this time, there was no other way. There was only death.

I heard the swiff of fabric and then a most terrible pain in my chest, I let out a pained gurgle, my eyes sought to fly open and then I felt a hand reach into the newly opened hole and then I felt nothing. One moment I was lying upon a stone table with a newly opened route to my heart, and in another moment I was suddenly underwater.

Being underwater was no strange thing, sometimes I felt like I spent more time swimming than anything else, especially when actively exploring. Of course, I usually didn't suddenly jerk into wakefulness several meters underwater. Which didn't actually even make sense, since if I was truly unconscious and underwater, I should've drowned. Instead my mouth was firmly closed, and since I hadn't opened it in shock, it felt like I had a full lungful of air.

I didn't stop and marvel at my impossible fortune but turned and pushed strongly upwards, where I could see light glittering above. The weight of my weapons and sodden clothes weighed me down but I was used to such weight after several years of tomb raiding, of which a significant portion were underwater. Or if they weren't underwater when I started my exploration, they were underwater by the end.

Honestly, sometimes my life felt like an Indiana Jones movie, lots of old sites and death defying stunts. I breached the water a moment after I let that thought sink in. Wreckage and flotsam surrounded me, I was in the middle of a city. A city currently being flooded. I felt the cold nagging grasp of despair well up inside me, not resisting as the surging waves swept me further into the city.

I must've failed then. Perhaps, I wasn't a worthy sacrifice? I smashed into a piece of wood, a wooden telephone pole, and instinctively grabbed it. My side burned from the impact, and I gingerly felt my side, yes, several ribs were probably broken. I took a deep breath in, letting the pain flare through my side and focused my mind.

Despairing on what could've been is no way to survive this, Lara, get a hold of yourself! I slowly inched up the wooden beam, and laboriously pulled myself from the water. I noticed then that I only had the straps to my rifle and shotgun, the guns themselves were missing. With a grimace I stopped clutching them and let them fall into the surging water.

I rubbed tears from my eyes, that formed despite my soaked condition and attempted to quell the sobs that threatened me. I looked at the water, what had I wrought? I remembered the tsunami at the beginning of my South American hunt for Trinity, was this flood also my fault? Would the disasters continue until the world was remade?

I just leaned back and let the rain hit my face, and tried to reorder my thoughts. Of course the moment I was trying to forget the world was when the world decided to reintroduce itself, violently.

With a crack, the beam broke and I was face to face with a towering titan made of sinuous green flesh, it had long grasping arms and glowing green eyes set asymmetrically in its head. It regarded me for a moment with a long inhuman gaze. Everything felt quiet, I couldn't hear the rushing of water or the sounds of distant destruction.

I could hear the pounding of my blood in my ears, the shaky inhale that rattled my lungs and made my side send sharp jabs of pain up my side. The thing stared at me, almost seeming to evaluate me with its many non blinking eyes, I felt like I was under the gaze of a microscope, an ant suffering under the gaze of a bird. A hare staring into the eyes of a fox, waiting for the moment to break. Some indication of what direction to flee, the idea of fighting didn't even enter into my mind.

I heard a dull crack, of the sound barrier being broken and the thing lurched backwards, nimbly dodging a flying woman clad all in black with a tower upon her chest, the slight amount of exposed flesh around her lower face was tan and her eyes were hidden by a black visor. The water seemed almost to float around the thing that she was attacking.

"Leviathan at my position," She snarled into her armband before charging forward in mid air towards the thing, which was evidently called Leviathan. I leapt towards a nearby building, rising in a smooth arc from my sinking beam, my hand going to my trusty climbing axe, the right one of course, I'd never trust the left one. With the ease of long practice I swung the axe out and felt it catch on an outcropping on the building and swung myself free.

I felt a breeze at my back and then sharp pain, sparing a glance back I noticed that Leviathan was right behind me, and that his long claws had just barely graced across my back, leaving shallow lacerations through my Blue Heron tunic. It was already ruined before this, mud and dirt, twigs and blood, and a gaping hole in the front and it wasn't really salvageable.

I flung my left climbing axe out catching on my quick attachment rope, and threw the axe lodging it in another outcropping and allowing myself to swing away from this "Leviathan". I heard a crash and another boom behind me, and could feel more than see the impact of whan was presumably the tower lady into Leviathan.

I didn't spare her another glance but focused on hauling myself up the crumbling stone building. It was nice enough, nice handholds at least, but the moment I spent climbing gave me a chance to think. I had no idea why there was an actual water beast demon creature after me. Barring the few instances of ritual magic, I hadn't actually ran into anything that blatantly supernatural. Furthermore, I'm pretty sure I would've noticed, even as antisocial as I was if actual superheroes existed. Afterall, what else could the woman be? She flew, was super strong, and wore a super suit.

I reached the top of the building and hauled myself over the ledge, collapsing on the top of the relatively safe building. Almost unbidden my hand went to my radio, and I almost wept in relief when I was graced with the glowing green screen of the working radio. I pulled it towards my face, when the screen suddenly went dark. Abruptly. What?

"No, no, no." I murmured, turning the radio over. I spent a moment to console myself by disparately noting that I was nowhere near Paititi, so it was unlikely anyone I knew would pick up anyways.

I got to my feet on shaky legs and stumbled over the broken building top to stare down at the destroyed city, I spotted Leviathan again, this time facing a blue figure in what appeared to be power armor, a large humanoid bug watched from behind a piece of masonry as the armored figure drew a large halberd. I could hear him speaking as he struck forward at Leviathan, but couldn't make out the words.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Survival Instincts is a difficult ability to justify. On the highest difficulties it isn't worth much, on the lower its almost like Lara is the Predator or a thinker. Hard to find an actual balance. **

Chapter 2:

I dipped deep into that special little headspace where I kept what I liked to dub my survival instincts. For as long as I could remember when I was in danger I could fall back on this ability. From my knowledge it wasn't a special power per se, it just allowed me to internalize things that my instincts had picked up on, such as the safest route or the best place to strike an enemy.

I felt my vision go grayscale, Leviathan stood out in deep red, a silhouette against the raging waters. Ordinarily, when I fell back into my special headspace when watching or hunting animals I could almost visualize where the heart was, such as when I fought the jaguars.

The glowing yellow sphere resting at the base of Leviathan's tail kind of threw that whole conjecture about it being merely my subconscious out the window. Survival instincts clearly indicated that the sphere at the base of its tail was its "heart". Spending a mere fraction of a second to regard this, I justified my observation with the postulation that maybe my subconscious had picked up on some hidden body language where this beast was subtly protecting the base of its tail. Of course, either way it didn't help me in the least, Leviathan was clearly the bad guy. Point of evidence number one: the shattered and cracked bodies floating in the water and its evident control over water.

I spotted the upper torso of what appeared to be an actual knight lying in the silt and muddy water, unmoving, another wave sent him into deep water. I could almost admire the symbolism, if it wasn't for the mortal danger I was apparently in if this thing was cleaving through people like they were nothing, superpowers or no.

I moved closer jumping from the building and rolling into the upper story of a nearby carpark, which was still nearly filled with cars, albeit destroyed and shattered. I moved closer again, pulling out my bow. Maybe if I managed to hit the sphere it would give the armored man a chance to kill the thing.

Emerging into view of the darkened sky again I could finally hear the armored figure speak, or at least caught the trail end of his monologue. I almost snorted in amusement, why would you monologue? It was just a distraction, heaven knows I used it to deadly effect on so many enemies.

"-oud around my blade? Nanotechnology. Nano-structures engineered to slide between atoms, sever molecular bonds. Cuts through anything. Everything. Like a sharp knife through air."

I boggled, what? A blade that cut molecular bonds? Was that even possible? If I hadn't believed I was currently living out a comic book with superheroes and supervillains before this would've made my reevaluate my conjecture. As it was, I was beginning to suspect that I might be living out a fever dream. However, I don't think I had ever had a fever dream this vivid, most still had the floaty unreal quality to them, especially when you managed to perceive it was a dream.

I raised my bow, smoothly nocking a silent arrow and drew back, ignoring the slight rumbling underneath my feet that shook the carpark slightly. Probably the prelude to an approaching wave.

I waited for a brief moment until the armored figure hit Leviathan with a halberd attached to a chain, actually managing to knock the titan on its arse, and then as it clambered to its feet and Mr. Armor reeled himself in, I let my arrow fly. It impacted Leviathan's skin and shattered.

I cursed under my breath, these were only wooden arrows after all, the majority homemade or salvaged from pre-modern ancient staches. Mr. Armor continued to monologue, not seeming to notice the arrow, in fact Leviathan didn't react either which I considered fortunate. Maybe a better angle...maybe, a different weapon?

I reached down to my side and pulled out my pistol, a River Hawk, a near clone of the Israeli Desert Eagle, at least in terms of looks and stopping power. I had modified it, as usual, to gain even more ammo capacity and stopping power, at the cost of its iconic look. As usual, any weapon I managed to get access to received a tune up, which I had been advised by many actual gunsmiths, and even one time a silversmith, was patently unsafe. A gunsmith in Scotland warned me that one day my jury rigged weapons would probably get me killed.

That day was not this day, I carefully aimed, falling back on the preternatural insight of survival instincts. I lined up my shot, careful to account for movement, everything was made easier by looking at it through the grayscale lenses of survival instincts, where even time seemed to slow.

All this occurred within seconds, any observer would've seen just a smooth action, harnessing my bow and drawing my pistol, no hesitation between motions. Just a smooth leveling of the pistol, a slight exhale, enough to steady my arm and then a deafening boom as the massive pistol bucked in my hand.

A spurt of blackish ichor spurted from Leviathan's tail, and the creature almost seemed to freeze in place for a second. However, since this all occurred while the grayscale seemed to shoot back into me, I was uncertain whether he had actually stumbled or whether that was just the dichotomy between the real world and survival instinct's vision.

My pistol boomed out twice more as Mr. Armor continued his deadly dance with Leviathan, do to the agile and quick movements of the two, I had to make extra sure to avoid hitting what I wasn't intending too. Leviathan seemed not to care about my attacks, despite each shot sending spurts of ichor into the air. The man in armor glanced my way after the third shot, and I spotted his mouth crease in annoyance, but he didn't waste a moment before continuing his attack, slicing deeply into the creatures forearms before retreating in the next step. One of the two halberds he carried looked cumbersome, filled with gadgets, and a part of me almost itched to grab it and see what it all had. The other halberd was unadorned and plain but had a greyish motionless haze around it.

It was the nano cloud blade he was monologuing about earlier. I thought about my own knife, so partly and makeshift, even if it was serviceable. Yes, I wanted that halberd, even if I had never trained with one.

The ground rumbled again and I started to move, that rumbling was not natural. I darted forward towards Mr. Armor as he seemed to hesitate, unsure of where to go. Water burst out of the ground, showering down around us, I briefly lost track of Mr. Armor, landing with a dull thud on a collapsing and gutted van. My legs punched through the roof and I narrowly missed cutting my entire leg on the jagged metal. Instead I just lost my sandal, the footwear's old plant fiber not strong enough when subjected to the edge of industrial steel. The sandal's fragment disappeared into the water.

I was just barely in time to lash out with one of my axes, with a long length of line attached to it, and catch Mr. Armor as Leviathan yanked on the chain of his halberd, pulling him forward towards its waiting talons. Leviathan's hand still snapped shut over his nano halberd, severing the appendage cleanly. The flesh around its grasp disintegrate into dust but the damage was done.

I heard Mr. Armor scream, a scream not of fear, but of rage and pain. He fell into the water trailing blood from his stump and hydraulic fluid and white foam from the new hole in his power armor.

For a moment I thought of stopping and trying to help the man, but I knew that with such a wound his time was short unless his suit had something special to stop blood from clotting. I didn't carry any first aid equipment on me besides a few bandages, always trusting in the anticoagulant and pain killing nature of the red health berries. Berries which I still had a few, of course that was only if the water had not destroyed them or if they were even still in my satchel.

I fired a point blank shot directly into Leviathan's eyes, taking out the only one that still remained in a spray of dark ichor, with a light step I evaded its raking arms and slid behind it. Time to try and put down this beast. I fired another shot into the base of its tail, letting the greyscale yellow illumination to guide my shots.

As before despite firing as many shots into the creature as I could, all were ineffectual and I was forced to retreat as Leviathan swung around and began to attack me. Its strikes were brutish, for all their speed. I had already learned that the water that trailed behind him in a bastard imitation of an afterimage was dangerous from watching Mr. Armor avoid or disperse it.

That being said, I don't think I quite realized how fast both Mr. Armor and Leviathan were moving before. I was reduced to dodging again and again, as the claws, tail, and afterimage struck at me relentlessly. While, I had got two or three shots in the beginning, now it was dogging me to quickly to think about anything other than survival.

Slipping back into survival instincts I noticed something, shining in yellow light behind Leviathan, just under the water was the nano halberd. I made the connection as soon as my survival instinct pointed it out, that might be able to kill this thing if I was able to hit its weak spot. I danced away, feeling like I was just one step away from failure, letting my remaining axe flash out and grasp onto a nearby object now and then, each time just managing to pull me from Leviathan's grasp.

Within a few seconds, despite my best maneuvering I was forced to abandon the square where Mr. Armor fought Leviathan and left him behind, heading north and away from the nano halberd. If only I could grab a second of head start…

A man suddenly appeared out of nowhere flinging green fire, almost casually Leviathan backhanded him and the water image bisected him as he fell, spreading loopy intestines and blood into the already cloudy water. I spotted the look of horrified fear on the man's bruised face as his torso sunk into the water with nary a trace.

No, that would not be my fate! I ducked under his reaching arm and spared a moment to shoot at his tail again. Finally my luck failed me, or should I say the risky shot almost sealed my fate. I dodged his retaliatory tail, but the after image grazed my side.

I heard even more ribs crack, this time on the opposite side from before, turning my already painful breathing into agony, I slammed into a nearby building, thrown nearly thirty feet by the strength of the impact. Just barely through eyes clouded with pain I managed to slam my climbing axe into the concrete to stop myself from sliding into the churning water.

Leviathan was gone, only dark shadows and screams remained.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Listened to Cenote from Shadow of the Tomb Raider while writing this, almost got the urge to make the rest of the story Lara traversing the inside of Coil's flooded base and accidentally unleashing another apocalyptic monster, Echidna.**

Chapter 3:

Apotheosis is generally regarded as the highest point, a peak in development, from which something can reach no higher. Alternatively, it is like quintessence, the most perfect example or most perfect realization of an ideal.

The primary way I viewed apotheosis once would've been similar to either of those definitions. However, there was a third definition to apotheosis, and that referred to deification. Specifically, the ascension of a mortal to the stature of a god. The Roman emperor's such as Augustus Caesar and Julius Caesar. Likewise, the ancient Egyptian's New Kingdom upheld that each deceased pharaoh underwhent apotheosis and became Osiris after their death.

I could lay claim to undergoing apotheosis myself, holding the ritual knife, or key, of the Mayan goddess Chak Chel imbued me with the divine power of the Mayan version of Fenrir, Kukulkan, a great serpent that was foretold to devour the sun and remake the world.

It was definitely true that before I discarded the prospect it definitely seemed like Kukulkan had the power to remake reality, if the vision I saw was true. I gave up my chance at remaking the world and probably lost my apotheosis. After all, my flesh did not mend like the previous avatar of Kukulkan's, and I appeared to possess none of the supernatural power Dominguez had before I introduced his heart to the Key of Chak Chel.

The point of all this rumination was I was in a bloody awful amount of pain. By my best estimates I had broken several ribs on both sides of my chest, and each breath was a further exploration in agony. My arms felt like they were nearly torn from their sockets, my armpits ached with a bone deep agony. Sharp lancelets of pain radiated out from what must've been bullet wounds, one in my thigh and one in my torso. It was only my brief opportunity to just relax and breathe for a moment.

I could still hear the rushing of water, and distant screaming and knew that I still hadn't managed to kill, or even significantly injure Leviathan. In fact I doubted that my bullets were having any impact at all beyond the cosmetic. Leviathan was too large, and the spurts of blood from my shots were too tiny to reach the distance inside his body to his heart.

I paused for a moment, before dropping to the ground with a grunt of pain. Water splashed up from where I landed, further drenching my body. This didn't actually matter, since I was pretty much as wet as I could possibly be already.

Thankfully, with the absence of Leviathan, the water level wasn't too bad, and while it eddied and swelled, it didn't appear to be overly dangerous. That didn't mean that it was safe, I had no idea whether the road had collapsed, or whether a manhole was exposed somewhere under the dark water, where I could suddenly fall into. Or whether there was a dangerous undercurrent that would pull me to my death.

Worrying about the issue made no difference, the truth was that I needed to move, perhaps see if I could retrieve that nano halberd, which actually seemed like it could deal some damage. With it in my hands, I would stand the best chance of slaying Leviathan.

I waded into the water, keeping my bow, pistol, and satchel above the water as much as possible. All three were already drenched but it was no reason to let them get more soaked, especially since by the salt I tasted on my lips, this was saltwater which doesn't usually take kindly to anything man made.

I made excellent time, and reached the previous square quickly, just spotting a purple shrouded "superheroine" taking off from the ground carrying the spindly insect person I spotted hiding before. A small swarm of insects surrounding them, which was kind of unusual but I dismissed that from my mind as I spotted what the insect was holding. The long gray nano halberd I intended to secure. For a split second I thought about calling out to them, asking for the halberd but decided not to, watching them go with a pensive expression on my face.

I mean, it was possible that they knew what they were doing and were bringing it back to someone that knew what they were doing as well, or maybe they were secretly some kind of medieval weapons enthusiasts that actually trained in how to use a halberd and...well…

All right, a part of me just really didn't trust anybody but me to be competent, and that was due, in a big way, to my tendency to find myself beset by danger with nothing to rely on but my own skill and sheer cunning. I let it go and decided to check out whether the man I saved was all right.

Emerging into the square I caught sight of another superheroine, this time one that had a white costume with a stylized radiant golden star pattern on the front, with lines extending down her arms and legs. She was tending to Mr. Armor, who looked like he had lost a lot of blood, if the extremely gaunt look on his face was any indication. His once impressive beard was matted with seawater and blood.

I could hear him murmuring as I drew near, something along the lines of, "How? How could it fail? It doesn't make sense."

The woman, superheroine, was trying to get him to relax, "Ssh, Armsmaster, I need to get you back to the triage center."

I felt the moment that Mr. Armor, who was apparently also called Armsmaster saw me and stiffened. The superheroine followed his gaze and landed on me. With a start I realized that I was still wearing the crown of the Queen of the Damned, and considered removing it for a half second before deciding that maybe it was better if they didn't know exactly who I was.

Frankly, I was rather surprised that I was still wearing the mask, especially since it wasn't that firmly secured to my face in the first place, just a sodden and ancient leather strap with support only on my nose. I must've cut quite a sight clad in my royal Mayan headdress and frayed Blue Heron tunic.

"Hero or villain?" Star lady in white ground out, her hands red with Armsmaster's blood. What an interesting question. Some could argue that I was a villain, and after my destruction of various priceless relics and countless deaths on my mind they were even arguably correct. Everyone considers themselves the heroes of their own story, and I was no exception to that rule.

"Hero," I answered succinctly, glancing about for the axe I used earlier to drag Armsmaster out of the way of Leviathan, before returning my eyes to the heroine, "I have some bandages in my satchel, need them?"

"Yes," The woman responded curtly keeping pressure on the wound, "If I take pressure off his wound to carry him, he'll bleed out."

I nodded, the wound was rather bad and swung my satchel around to my front, I was tempted to give Armsmaster one of the berries I used to stop my bleeding and pain but refrained. After all, I wasn't sure whether he was on any heart medication, which could the coagulant in the berries could affect to his detriment. Furthermore, I actually didn't know precisely how the painkilling worked either so I was reluctant to give them to a person near death that wasn't myself.

I dug around in my satchel and grabbed the plastic baggie that had my bandages, moving aside the jaguar pelt I kept from the so called empress jaguar I slew with my bow in the Peruvian jungle. It would mostly likely be completely ruined from the salt water if I didn't get it cleaned soon, but I had bigger problems at the moment. Thankfully the bandages were still dry within their baggie, and more importantly the gauze was still sterile. I reached out to place the two items in the heroine's outstretched hand, sloshing through the water to get closer as I did so.

Keeping one hand on Armsmaster she snatched the gauze and bandages out of my hand and started to apply them, struggling to keep pressure on the wound as she did so. Unfortunately it was not a clean tear, right at the joint, if it was then the artery could close relatively easily, as it was it continued to bleed.

I kneeled down, not caring about the filthy water and reached out to help her, applying pressure to the wound.

"Press here with the gauze," I instructed, just now noticing that the superheroine's trouble was not because she was inexperienced, but because she was trembling badly. I guided her through the rest of the motions of rudimentary bandaging, tightening the bandage as I did so.

"This will serve as a makeshift torquinent, make sure the doctors know to remove it as soon as they can," I told the superheroine.

She nodded her thanks, before holding out a hand that was shaking a little less, "I'm Lady Photon."

"I'm Lady Croft," I replied, a little confused. She shot me a look I couldn't decipher then hoisted Armsmaster up and flew off, streaking across the air, leaving streaming yellow particles behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Amused, I reflected on what Lady Photon had said and realized that her name might actually not be Lady Photon at all. Since she looked like a superhero and was currently associated with a man named Armsmaster, Lady Photon might in fact be a nom de guerre, which I had also just poked fun at.

There goes making a good impression Lara, great job. I shook my head, dispelling my negative thoughts and peered into the silty water. There was no way I would be able to find my axe without knowing where it was, after all, I didn't have x-ray vision.

I reached into my satchel and checked around for a perception berry. Of course since everything was rather jumbled around, I resorted to opening it up so I could actually see what I was looking for. Idly, I noted that I had lost one of the straps on the satchels side, which meant that it was only partially closed, and if I wasn't careful I'd lose anything I put into it if I engaged in acrobatics that were too rigorous.

I had plenty of the red berries, I even had a plastic baggie to keep them in, so they weren't soaked by seawater. Finally, I found a smushed perception berry after a few seconds of rummaging. I scraped it off the bottom of my satchel with a fingernail, it left a purple stain.

I popped it in my mouth, tasting both the overly tart taste of the berry and the unpleasant taste of saltwater. I shook my head as my vision swam, I peered through the water, ghostly white echoes inundated my sight.

Within a scant second, I spotted my axe, resting in the water wedged in a length of rebar, I sloshed through the now knee deep water and snatched it up. The head was twisted and the last two inches of the pick were missing, looking like it was cleanly shorn off by something. SImilarly the adze head on the opposite side was also missing. The only functionality that remained was the carabiner hole, set at the apex of the shaft.

I placed it at my side anyways, clipping it to my waist bandolier, it had served me well through many trials, even some literal ancient Mayan trials, so I was loathe to just discard it like common trash.

My perception vision showed me many more things in the water, metal scrap, a few sticks, an apple floating in the water. I started to head in the direction of the not so distant screams, the slight current hurrying me along. Where the water was going was where Leviathan would be. A ghostly glow caught my eye right next to the broken and slightly sunken power line pole I had first regained consciousness.

Beneath it in the water was a familiar sight, a knife. Really it was more of an athame, a ritual dagger used to sacrifice a god, and the same knife that should've or I suppose, might've ended my life. It was the Key of Chak Chel, an ancient Mayan creation goddess' blade.

I pushed against the current, mindful of each step, since a wrong step could see me swept away by the increasingly rushing water. I bent down, and pulled it from the water, the gold inlay covered in silt but the chiseled obsidian blade still intact and umarred.

My chest suddenly ached. A sharp painful ache and my hand went to the place where it would've cut into my body. In the soft flesh right below the ribcage, the ritualist, Crimson Fire, would've stabbed there to more easily remove my heart and fulfill the ritual. My hand met torn cloth, and I could hear my heartbeat thundering in my chest. A shallow cut rested right below my sternum, and now that I was paying attention to it, I could see a slow bead of blood form at the edge of the incision, before running down and into my tattered blue tunic. The wound itself burnt from the salt, but my body already ached enough that I hadn't really paid attention to it before.

I didn't stop to consider what the wound meant, promising myself that I would later but continued on, stepping back into the current and letting it sweep me forward, the rain was even worse than when I arrived, if that was even possible, and my sight, even with the last ghostly vestiges of the perception berry was severely hindered.

Within a few moments of actually heading where I needed to go I caught up with all the screaming, the explosions, and the bursts of exotic effects. Those last two, the explosions and the exotic effects I was guessing were both superpowers.

I spared a moment, a microsecond really, to just stare and blink. Three giant stuffed animals were fighting Leviathan. I spared a moment more to consider that maybe that perception berry was a little older than I thought, but swiftly discarded that thought. Food poisoning doesn't work that way, and definitely the small berry wouldn't have spoiled enough without having green fuzz or something on it to result in a hallucination of this magnitude.

Instead what was more likely was that I picked the wrong berry somewhere, which was impossible since it let me see my axe and to find the Key of Chak Chel. I stepped into action, my pistol in one hand, and the Key in the other. I didn't think the Key would actually help any, since the obsidian blade was likely to shatter. However, I didn't really have anywhere else to put it, with my satchel liable to lose it, so it remained in my hand.

As Leviathan lunged forward I fired at his arse again, like I had been doing earlier and his tail swipe which was poised to destroy two of the giant stuffed animals, a bipedal tiger and a deformed goat, missed, slamming into a wolf made of blades. The blade covered wolf careened away, crashing into a nearby brick storefront. The resulting shower of bricks managed to hit a young boy in a greenish jumpsuit in the head and he stumbled, only to be decapitated by Leviathan's claws.

I lost track of the head, still intent on firing at Leviathan's arse, I activated survival instincts, just in time for time to slow down, as Leviathan's afterimage snuck up behind me, this time not just following Leviathan's movements but preceding them. I jumped into the air, the afterimage just missing my foot, in fact the watery claw sheared the bottom centimeter of my remaining sandal from my foot, leaving me with almost no sole.

Leviathan's real body proceeded to tear the stuffed goat in half, resulting in a surprisingly macabre display of falling stuffing. The other animal, the tiger was tossed towards a living doll, complete with a porcelain face and everything. The doll was covered by the deflating cloth, and the other giant stuffed animal seemed to freeze and collapse, almost looking like air was being let out of it.

A blast of white light, taking the form of rotating helixes slammed into Leviathan along with crimson blasts of light, I moved forward firing my pistol again and again, both the blasts of incandescent light and my bullets left naught but superficial and shallow wounds.

Suddenly, I spotted something that actually seemed to work, an enormous crossbow bolt speared straight through Leviathan's neck, dealing the most damage since Armsmaster's nano halberd earlier.

I got an idea and headed in her direction, twisting around beneath Leviathan's grasping claws, and rapidly activating survival instincts in order to dodge his afterimage a moment afterwards. I slung out my remaining climbing axe, and dodging a tail swipe quickly ascended the remnants of the brick building.

Just in time to it seemed, as a moment afterwards, a cloud of pitch black smoke barreled towards Leviathan and obscured his form, he swiftly moved out of it, which lent me the thought that either it was poison or was actually as difficult to see through as it looked.

Regardless, his jump destroyed the brick building I had just ascended, which meant I had to jump to the next, letting my climbing axe swing out as I did and snagging onto a windowsill on the building that a girl with a giant arbalest, and a girl with an ordinary crossbow, who became a shadowy ghost in between her shots.

I rapidly ascended the building and as I pulled my battered body over the side managed to wheeze out, "Which one of you was the one that got his neck?"

The girl with the arbalest, who was wearing stupid looking arrow themed purple and white armor, nodded her head at me, while winding her arbalest.

"I did, I'm Flechette."

"Aim at the base of the tail, there's something there, his heart maybe." I pulled myself to my feet, groaning at the new pain, slamming into another building was not fun. In a quick motion I downed another healing berry to dull my pain.

Purple girl, Flechette nodded grimly, and the ghost lady next to her growled.

"I'm going closer."

I pulled out my bow, and looked at Flechette, ignoring ghost lady as she, well, ghosted off the top of the building.

"How did you make your bolt deal so much damage?" I asked, restringing my bow smoothly, since apparently it had snapped somehow while I was evading Leviathan. Thankfully I had plenty of raw intestine lining that I had saved for precisely this purpose. Usually, on gut string bow strings cat intestine is supposedly traditional, but jaguar would have to do for me.

"My power," Flechette replied tersely, not even taking her eyes off Leviathan.

"Can you share it?" I asked holding out my arrow.

She shook her head, "Once I imbue it, the timing is too tricky for anyone else."

She fired again, and this shot speared through Leviathan's knee, sending the beast to its knees. A potent power, I took a pot shot at Leviathan, my arrow pinged off his head and narrowly missed a girl in a bug suit that was crouched down behind a barrier some ways away. Now that was an impressive ricochet.

Leviathan surged upwards, narrowly dodging the return of the blade wolf and then a superheroine in bronze armor, and then he slammed back down, swiping a long claw at the ghost lady, who reformed at precisely the wrong moment. With a scream she was pushed backwards straight into the blade wolf, where she was shredded in a nanosecond by its movements.

Leviathan came right for us, and Flechette disappeared, and the man made of rock took her place. Leviathan slammed into rock man, not harming him but knocking rock off in every direction. Swiftly, from its perch, Leviathan reached forward and grabbed rock man, a leg in one hand and his torso in the other and pulled, the man screamed as he was literally twisted apart.

I spotted my chance, and almost without thinking I darted forward as stone showered around me, and swung upwards with the Key of Chak Chel, directly at the spot where survival instincts guided me.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Death of the Beast

Leviathan shuddered, the moment the obsidian blade touched his skin, and he recoiled, dropping the stone man in the process. The Key had just barely pierced his skin, and I found it odd that something as fragile as an obsidian blade succeeded in damaging him. After all, all these esoteric effects and even my own arrows and bullets failed.

Sure they caused superficial damage but he didn't really react to any before. This time I could tell that despite the likewise superficial looking damage caused by the athame, in some way he felt the strike. It was different, I grinned. Well, if the athame hurt him then I better stab him some more with it.

All this introspection took place in less then a second, for my blade had barely pierced his skin when he leapt away, knocking a glowing green ball of crackling lightning aside as he did. His after image stuttered like it was a bad special effect in a movie and collapsed, acting like normal water for once.

Leviathan turned and _looked_ at me, as if truly regarding me for the first time. Then the moment was lost as a swarm of insects speared into his face and he descended from the building in a long bound, scraping at his face with one massive arm as he did.

The woman in black with the tower on her chest was back and she slammed into the back of Leviathan with an angry shout, whatever she said obscured by the sound of the water that was beginning to shroud Leviathan again exploding outwards from her impact. Leviathan was obscured by mist for a second, and I moved forward again, mentally toggling survival instincts.

Leviathan lit up within the mist where he was currently grappling with the Tower Lady. I heard the whirr of Flechette's arbalest discharging and saw the blur of the bolt cut through the mist. Unfortunately for Flechette, Leviathan twisted unnaturally and the bolt meant for his head instead speared into Tower Lady's leg and passed right through, leaving a gaping wound.

Tower Lady screamed and attempted to flee, but Leviathan caught her remaining leg and pulled her into his after-image as she flailed, half blinded by pain. By this point I was within range and swung my axe, with rope attached, at Leviathan again. Hitting him right on one of his gaping eye sockets.

I swung in, as he in turn flailed, the rope snapping as an enormous green arm impacted it. My distraction still succeed since he relinquished his grip on Tower Lady and tried to kill me instead. My survival instincts were blaring non stop, and I could only dimly hear people screaming and yelling around me, saying something about an "Alexandria". I ignored them, any little distraction could see me in similar dire straits.

I twisted over his tail, even as he struck downwards, anticipating that I would use the sliding move I used twice before against him, and stabbed at his tail with the Key.

Crack!

The athame fractured, even as it cut straight through his flesh like hot butter, carving a basketball sized chunk of ichor laden tissue from his arse. The ground rumbled and I continued my jump, narrowly dodging a grabbing claw, even as my lungs ached from exertion and my muscles burned from the rapid movement.

I only had my broken axe now, the whole one was still lodged in one of Leviathan's eyes. The rumble increased rapidly and the ground started to collapse, water exploded in geysers, one of which caught my arm and dragged me upwards, it felt almost like what I expected being flayed would be like.

It only carried me up about fifteen feet before suddenly I was on dry land and a bathtub was in my place, a man in a drenched tophat nodded to me before disappearing, a large corporate mailbox appearing in his place.

I looked down at my arm, all my exposed flesh was reddish, which probably meant that it would turn black and blue with a deep bruise within a day. I was lucky that the water didn't just tear my arm clean off.

Leviathan rose from the spray and cascading water like a monster from myth, and he was moving straight for me, I dodged to the right and sloshed through the water as quickly as I could at an odd angle, avoiding the first colossal surge of directed water by a hair.

Then an honest to god wizard appeared out of the deluge and started to siphon a truly massive amount of water into his staff, Leviathan lashed out with multiple afterimages, and each was hit with a bolt of bluish light, freezing them in place. Another man, this one with a green robe and softly green lit cowl floated in front of the beast.

Working in tandem, the wizard siphoned the water away, and the green cowled man froze the after images, stymying Leviathan in the process. I took my chance and backed away some more, jumped for a nearby building and climbed it rapidly. After all my time free climbing and swinging around the peruvian jungle, the siberian wilderness, and some desolate island, climbing a man made building was as easy as pie.

I still needed another axe though, both for quick escape plans and for rapid mobility.

"Hey!" A female voice called out.

I slightly slowed my ascent, unwilling to stop entirely and looked to the side.

"What?" I replied, a little tersely.

"I'm Glory Girl! I saw what you did with that knife! Do you think you can hurt him again?"

Glory Girl was absolutely stunning, golden light shone off a tiara set in a perfect face, blonde hair swept around in the damp wind just added to her beatific otherworldly beauty. I blinked and reprocessed what she said.

"Um, yes?"

"Great! I think I can get you close!" She darted forward and grabbed my arms pulling me off the building. I let out a little shocked yelp, not expecting to be suddenly pulled from my place. My trained instincts screamed at me to lash out with one of my axes, and attempt to arrest my fall, but of course I wasn't falling.

Glory Girl also seemed trustworthy, at least that was the general feeling I got from her, how could someone like her be anything but trustworthy? So beautiful, so perfect…

The confusion cleared as I activated survival instincts, actually this is a terrible idea. The whole reason I was able to escape Leviathan's clutches before was because of my own reflexes, not someone else's. Glory Girl had already pulled me away from the building so I held my tongue, unwilling to distract her while approaching the murderous beast.

She juked in the air, avoiding a swipe and a water echo, I held out the Key in front of me, noting the hairline fracture down its middle. Obsidian is infamous for its brittle nature, so I had no idea why it hadn't actually snapped instead of just cracking.

Glory Girl darted in, avoiding one of Leviathan's after-images but she was moving me towards the wrong part of Leviathan.

"Back!" I hissed loudly, unwilling to risk the Key to strike at an area that wasn't the heart.

Thankfully, she pulled us back as if she was struck and spiraled into the air.

"The base of the tail!" I shouted, having to work to make my voice heard over the shriek of extotic effects and rushing water.

"She tightened her grip and I felt her body wobble, probably nodding, I had to trust she heard me. I activated survival instincts again as we approached again. However, this time we couldn't quite get close enough, each time Glory Girl started to descend, something would happen so she had to pull up again. Water echoes or missed blasts of uncertain nature.

Then with a thunderous cacophony of noise and white water spray, Leviathan disappeared. Glory Girl was hovering out of reach of all but the most impressive jumps, but I channeled survival instincts to be sure, and Leviathan was nowhere in sight.

A band on Glory Girl's armband beeped and announced, "Myrddin down, BX-9"

"Where is he?" I almost snarled looking into the spray and growing lake, the mist and fog had increased drastically and Glory Girl had to circle higher and higher to stay out of it.

"Enemy location unknown," The armband continued after a long moment, "Defensive perimeter, report."

We drifted lazily above it all, watching the chaos below. There was little bursts of activity where costumed individuals seemed to search in a very rough grid like pattern. I spotted the man in the green cowl shoot some kind of beam at an eddy but there was no change in the swirling water.

"Impel deceased, CB-10. Apotheosis deceased, CB-10," Glory Girl's armband announced. So the words must be names, and the code must be for a grid system or maybe might mean something else.

"CB-10! That's right over here!" Glory Girl swung in the air, almost giving me whiplash and zoomed down towards a sudden spray of water near a concrete megastructure. A spray of red tinged seawater.

"Laserdream down, CB-10," the armband announced, and Glory Girl gave a snarl of pure fury and increased her speed, pressing me back into her chest, my eyes watered and I struggled to draw in a breath, the air torn from my lungs.

Boom! With a resounding crack, Glory Girl slammed into Leviathan knee, and the beast stumbled, at the same time she lost her grip on my hands and I cartwheeled under him. Leviathan turned and with an almost casual gesture backhanded Glory Girl, I saw resistance for a moment then the hand continued, flinging Glory Girl to the side.

From far away I heard an armband chime, but couldn't make out the words of its announcement. I pulled myself to my feet and looked up, Leviathan had moved on, and miraculously his water image had missed me, flowing a scant few centimeters from my prone form.

The figure in the insect suit stepped forward, and my attention sharpened as I noticed they were holding the long grey nano halberd, the same grey halberd that had dealt such damage before.

"The base of the tail!" I screamed at them. For a long second I didn't think the insectoid person had heard me but then they thrust upwards, straight into Leviathan's arse with all their strength. No, all her strength, I decided already moving forward, the Key in my hand.

Leviathan stumbled again, a massive gaping wound leaving his tail hanging only loosely from his body, his hand descended and forced the insectoid into the water, her halberd slipping out of her hands in the process. I made to grab it, but it slipped from my fingers into the swirling spray. I darted upwards, and time slowing as I dived right between Leviathan's arms, one long claw carving a shallow line along my face and splitting my crown in half.

I landed with a splash and even as Leviathan twirled away and the water around me surged I stabbed upwards, just like I did so long before. This time there was no ichor filled flesh. This time there was nothing to turn my blade from driving into the black sphere nestled amongst abnormal tissue. The black sphere glowed softly with yellow light, this was the heart.

The Key of Chak Chel, obsidian that it was arced upwards and slid neatly into the oily black heart. Immediately the water and the spray stopped, seeming to hang in the air for a long moment. Leviathan shuddered, and I noticed that his tail hung right behind me, poised to skewer me, but he did not strike.

Leviathan took a step, and the Key shattered, breaking in half, I felt small razor sharp shards of obsidian pepper my face and front and began to bleed freely. A small piece protruded from his black heart, and watching it I saw water start to dribble from it, slowly and then a slow flood.

Leviathan looked at me, and for some reason I could almost feel a sense of sorrow in his gaze. The glowing green eyes dimmed and Leviathan teetered forward and fell with a crash, water spraying up from his impact.

I wiped the bloody water from my face, wincing as I opened new cuts from the fragments of obsidian dust. I still held half of the Key in one hand. Looking down I saw my hand was white knuckled and with an effort I got my hand to release its hold on the Key, letting it fall and splash into the water.

After a long moment, I reached down and picked it up again, holding it loosely. I collapsed to my knees, just trying to take a breath. My face hurt. My ribs hurt. My arms hurt. Everything hurt.


	6. Interlude 1

"Hello again America, this is Robert Allens with CNN broadcasting live and keeping everyone in the know about global events."

A long pause, " About half an hour ago, Leviathan, the Endbringer, made landfall at the city of Brockton Bay," A harried looking mid thirties broadcaster said, reading from a teleprompter that was invisible to the audience.

"We only have limited knowledge on how the fight is going, but we have confirmed, via our reporter onsite, that all three of the Triumvirate showed up along with an unusually large number of independents and villains for a small city like Brockton Bay."

Allens paused, reading off something, "The casualties are expected to be about average for one of Leviathan's attacks. However, potential exists for astronomically larger losses of life than either Behemoth or the Simurgh due to flooding or collapses like what happened at Kyushu."

"Wait," Allens interrupted his broadcast, pressing his finger against his ear, almost choking out, "That can't be right."

He listened for a moment, then turned back to the audience, Americans and more around the world. People of every country listening in. Most expected news of some great calamity, likely a recreation of Newfoundland or Kyushu.

"Leviathan is dead."

The world seemed to stutter for a moment, for everyone watching. You couldn't imagine what it would be like, living with a lurking spectre of death over every town, city, or village in the world. Knowing that every three months, some kind of cosmic lottery was rolled, and then an unstoppable monster would come straight for your home and destroy it.

Many long years of living in that world had inoculated most to that reality. So the news of Leviathan's death was met with harsh disbelief, even anger, especially from people that thought it was some kind of ill thought out joke.

Viewers that switched channels soo found out that it must be true. Beyond all hope and belief, the monster of the sea, Leviathan had been slain. The only question on everyone's lips was how.

* * *

"Who is she?"

Director Armstrong sighed quietly to himself as he watched Assistant Chief Director Ron Smothers get more and more worked up.

All the top regional PRT directors were in this tele-conference, they were just waiting on Chief Director Costa-brown, who was uncharacteristically late. It did not bode well, especially when her warhawk assistant took on airs.

"Yet again, I'm telling you, I have absolutely no idea," Director Piggot replied growing angry herself.

Truthfully, Armstrong considered Smothers a bit daft, it was obvious that a cape could've shown up just for the Endbringer fight, and might even wear a different costume and assumed identity to it.

"She killed an Endbringer! We need to know who she is!"

"She killed an Endbringer with a knife, Assistant Director Smothers, that's not someone that I want to antagonize," Chief Director Costa-Brown said, finally entering the room that her camera was oriented towards. Armstrong just barely managed to spot that she walked with a limp before she sat.

"You're late," Vancouver's director said quietly, not quite accusingly but with some undercurrent of suspicion. Some suspicion was warranted, Armstrong mused, Costa-Brown was almost never late for any appointment, ever.

"I was regretfully delayed," Costa-Brown replied after a long moment, where she stared down the Vancouver director. The Vancouver director snorted and leaned back in his chair.

"The question remains, who exactly is she, and where did she come from?" Armstrong spoke up to fill the awkward silence.

Director Ward of Houston spoke up, "Both the mask and the costume she wore were both confirmed as ancient Mayan designs."

"We don't have a strong presence in South America, it's possible that she is a South American parahuman we haven't heard of before," Director Wilsons, PRT security head said after a moment.

"Regardless of where this "Croft" came from," Costa-Brown allowed, "We need to start talking about what we are going to do with Leviathan's death."

"We can't claim credit ourselves, even if Armsmaster contributed to Leviathan's death, the whole world know now that Croft killed him, and the video that's circulating online shows exactly how she did it," Piggot growled out.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

I stared into the dull lifeless eyes of Leviathan and closed my own, taking a moment to just breath. The rain, which previously seemed to almost hold motionless, stopped and fell to the earth. No more rain fell afterwards, and the storm clouds above already seemed less ominous, and less full. I focused on centering myself.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

I heard a splash nearby and an exclamation of startled surprise.

"You actually did it! He's dead!"

I turned my head, ignoring the pain from the obsidian that was probably further lacerating my neck. Obsidian dust was actually rather dangerous, incredibly sharp and even the smallest fragment can cut flesh easily. However, pain and I were old friends, ever since the island, and long ago in that dark time I had learned to ignore it. If I couldn't ignore it, I would live with it. Besides, with Leviathan dead I didn't doubt that medical attention would make its way to me shortly. After all, there was a lot of injured civilians and superheroes here.

The aforementioned speaker was Glory Girl, who looked much worse for wear. Her tiara was missing, and her leg looked deeply bruised. Her previously impeccable white and gold minidress and heels were stained and marred by silt and seawater. Her nose was also bloody and looked broken, if the blood was any indication. She wiped her nose with an arm and continued in a tone of disbelief.

"He's actually dead...and I helped!" she practically crowed the last part to the world in abject delight.

I nodded slowly, not quite trusting myself to speak through the pain just yet. She looked at me, and then at Leviathan's body.

"Are you all right? My sister can heal you if you need it! I'm sure she'd be happy! Is all that blood yours?" She word vomited. Heal? Her sister can heal? I focused my scattered thoughts long enough to analyse what I was hearing. I suppose if other superpowers were real, then healing could be real too.

"That…" I managed to speak, slowly and haltingly, being careful not to move my face too much, "Would be appreciated."

"All right, I'll just need too…"

I cut her off, exhaling a longer sentence, "Help others first, insect girl…"

I cut myself off there, wincing in pain and struggled to stand. I considered eating another of my painkilling red berries but dismissed that idea as monumentally foolish. I had no idea where all my injuries were and so using a painkiller was precisely the wrong idea to do. My Blue Heron tunic stuck to my body, courtesy of partially dried blood, and apparently I had lost the ornate gold choker at some moment in the chaos of my final strike.

I touched my throat, it was slick with blood. Thinking back on it, I wondered exactly when I had lost the choker. I didn't remember Leviathan getting close enough to tear it off. I paused, thinking, I must've lost it at the same time as my crown. I guess I was just bloody lucky, Leviathan claw almost certainly should've taken my head off, if he managed to peel away my choker and crown.

"My back," wheezed a distraught feminine voice, and I turned and spotted the insect girl speaking to a rather heavy set woman in a plastic rottweiler mask. Rottweiler mask helped insect girl out of the slowly draining water and silt a little.

I swayed and almost fell, Glory Girl caught me, darting forward over the top of the dirty water without disturbing it. Her hands came away slick with blood as she steadied me, and she just stared at them a moment.

"You really, and I mean really, need medical help," she said.

I was about to nod in acceptance, when there was a blue flash and a man in a white and blue jumpsuit flashed into being about five feet off the ground. His jaw was strong and chiseled, short wavy brown hair ruffled in the slight breeze that even now pushed the previously angry storm clouds away. The blue and white accented his muscular definition.

"It's true then," He said almost breathlessly, almost, in childlike wonder. His voice was smooth, and I got the sense that he was a practiced public speaker, probably known for his confidence inspiring voice.

I nodded shallowly, a motion that was aborted before it began. The pain was real.

"I'll get a teleporter out to you right away," he said. I felt his eyes briefly flash over my body, focusing on the wounds, and then the athame. His eyes lingered on the shattered obsidian, before he turned away, pressing a finger to his armband.

"I need medical evac at my position for…" he glanced about, "two."

"Acknowledged," I heard a female voice respond through the armband.

He glanced at Glory Girl, "You're fine with flying, I hope? We need all our teleporters on critical injuries."

Glory Girl nodded but didn't speak. In fact she seemed a little star struck to be addressed by the floating man.

"I'm sorry, I'm Legend," He turned to me now and stuck out his hand. I reached out and grasped it with my blood covered hand, and shook once before dropping.

"Croft... I guess," I said. His eyes seemed to narrow behind his blue domino mask.

"Is that your real name?"

"Yes."

"You don't have a cape name?"

Cape name? Who would name their cape? That seemed like a silly thing to do. I really just wanted to ask, "cape name?" but refrained. There was some kind of context I was missing, and I had been embarrassed enough as a rich English noble back in boarding school to give away that I didn't know something. Looking back at that time, the problems I had then were so incredibly minor, but for all that they were a lot safer.

"No," I settled on replying.

"Ah," he said, eyeing me with a look that seemed to both convey pity and admiration. What a funny combination.

"I'm sure you'll have a great name before the day is up," he smiled. He turned and regarded the corpse of Leviathan then. Looking straight into the dull no longer glowing green eyes. He reached forward and grasped my climbing axe, and tugged it free with a slight grunt of effort. Holding it idly in one hand, his eyes traveled down Leviathan's body to rest on his groin.

He twitched. I mean, it did look rather bad. If Leviathan had gentilia they would've been completely torn away, and his arse would've been obliterated. As it was, Leviathan's tail was barely attached to a narrow strip of flesh. Furthermore, if Leviathan had bones, neither leg would still be connected to the pelvis. Of course, Leviathan had none of those things, but his groin still looked like someone had gone at it with a chainsaw, which was probably from the nano halberd.

I cast my eyes around but couldn't see where the nano halberd had went. Shame, I liked the idea, would've been useful. I was barely cognizant at this point that Glory Girl was holding me upright, or I would have face planted when Legend began to speak again.

"You did the world a great service, one that I'm not sure can ever be repaid, and for that I must say thank you," He held out my climbing axe, making what was an ordinary gesture seem to have some greater significance. Achingly I reached out and grasped my axe, even the small weight seemed poised to set me off balance. Glory Girl's grip tightened around my shoulder.

There was a pop and a short rotund woman in yellow bee spandex inflated out of what appeared to be thin air. I resisted the urge to shake my head with disbelief. Now I was almost inclined to lend credence to all of this just being a fever dream. Honestly, bee themed superheroes? That was just bloody ridiculous.

"Queen Bee!" Legend said, and I had to resist the urge to snort, that name with that costume was almost too much, "can you carry the girl that she's holding up to the triage center, make sure she's top priority. Then come back for her"

While speaking he first indicated Glory Girl and I with a gesture and then turned and gestured to the bug girl, who's hand on Rottweiler girl's arm prevented her from being dragged away.

Queen Bee had just been staring at the corpse of Leviathan for a long moment, before nodding woodenly, possibly in shock, and popped over to me.

There was a brief flare of vertigo. A flash of crystalline architecture, impossible fractals and then I was in a completely different place. I felt the urge to hurl but choked it down, since I didn't spot any convenient buckets and I really didn't want to splatter my stomach contents all over the floor. Their were doctors and nurses moving all over the area, and I spotted a few suspicious stains on the floor already so I supposed it wouldn't have mattered if I had hurled.

A bulky man in white trauma plates bustled over followed by a nurse in scrubs pulling a metal bed. She eased me down, while the man spoke through a voice modulator. I only barely noticed that he was holding a rifle, one that I was unfamiliar with in one hand while he scribbled on the clipboard with the other. What an awkward hold.

"Name?"

"Croft."

"Villian or Hero?"

"Hero," I coughed out, feeling lightheaded.

He nodded and stepped forward, before stopping and cocking his head, listening to a mic built into his helmet, and then stepped back.

"Orders from on high," he told the nurse, "She goes right to Panacea."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

The nurse wheeled my bed around through several rooms, and I felt the heavy footsteps of the armored guard following closely behind. Their was the rush of frantic voices and electronic beeping all around us. I will admit that I was on the verge of drifting off several times, because despite the orders, there was still a lot of medical personnel to maneuver around.

"Where's Panacea?" My armored escort growled out, the modulator distorting his voice. Half gone in the haze of pain I noted that technically the escort could be female, but I kind of doubted that, since the build was all wrong. Kudos for the effort on obscuring the identity of your soldiers though.

I came back to myself after a long moment considering the ethnic origin of the word Kudos, which was probably Greek by the way, to a freckled brunette in a stereotypical nurse costume leaning over me and staring into my face. The red cross on her cap stood out clearly, and I almost thought it shimmered like fresh blood.

"Permission to heal you?"

I fought to focus my eyes, and nodded slowly. Looking into her eyes, there were dark circles under them and it looked like she hadn't slept in weeks. Which if this was the healer sister that Glory Girl mentioned made sense, with all the people injured and killed by Leviathan.

"I need verbal permission."

"Yes," I managed to bite out. She stretched out her hand and stilled, before jerking her hand back as if slapped.

"Is there a problem?" My armored escort growled out, and despite the modulator I could hear the tinge of worry in his voice.

"No, no," The healer, who I assumed was Panacea said, reached out and touched me again.

"How…" She asked, trailing off as she furrowed her brow in concentration. Immediately the pain in my chest eased and I relaxed, taking the first deep breath I'd taken since I got to wherever this place was, with superheroes running about. And apparently super villains too, if the repeated questions about being one were any indication.

"You have enough toxins in your blood to kill a bull moose three times over," Panacea spoke, still concentrating, I felt something shift inside me, a pop pop pop, as apparently a few of my ribs moved back into place.

"I don't even… how much painkillers were you taking, I haven't even seen this compound before, an anticoagulant and painkiller? And the hallucinogens? You're body is riddled with toxins, and that is just the start!"

She grew louder and louder towards the end, and my escort had to resort to giving her hushing motions frantically.

"Kept me alive," I mumbled, not liking my berry addiction being criticized.

"What exactly did you take? It almost looks like some of Armsmaster's combat stims, the way its interacting with your nerves? And that's not even taking into account your physical injuries, which also make no sense!"

"Everything all right in there, Amy?" I heard a male voice call out from behind the curtain sounding a little concerned, probably from this girl rising voice. I didn't deign to answer Panacea's query with "berries" since I didn't think she'd like such a response, and it was a little embarrassing to admit that I had no idea what the berries were, just that I experimented with them in the jungle and found ones that worked.

"I'm fine!" She called back and looked right into my eyes, "There's obsidian shards in your face and neck and actually your whole front, they cut straight through your clothes."

She paused and then narrowed her eyes, I felt my skin twitch strangely and she gestured to a nurse, one with similarly brown hair and brown eyes, but who had her hair in a braid instead of messy.

"Grab those tweezers and grab the shards as I bring them to the surface." They continued in such a vein for a moment, both working quickly.

I felt the cuts and lacerations from Leviathan closing up, and the burns I suffered before my arrival, and the constant ache in my abdomen which I had since the original island finally disappeared, I had it for so long I guess I got used to it.

"Most of these cuts make sense, since you were fighting Leviathan and by all accounts got pretty close, but these burns… and what exactly is _wrong_ with your heart?"

Wrong? Um, nothing's wrong with my heart. I could feel it pumping and beating in my chest.

"Heart?" I repeated, with a tinge of apphrehension, as a suspicion suddenly reared its head.

Panacea lowered her voice, "Your heart isn't even in your chest! There's just an empty spot where blood goes and then disappears, and then it comes back out where it's supposed to, but your heart _doesn't exist_."

"Uh," I said, just kind of laying back and trying not to think about it. Oh yeah, how do you tell someone your heart is probably, and only probably, missing because a mostly nude woman in red body paint with extreme body modifications sacrificed you as a godly sacrifice to stop the Mayan apocalypse, and in the process tore your heart out. And you just woke up here for no reason?

"It got sacrificed," I settled on, nodding to myself. Wait! That just opened up more questions, why did I answer that.

"What?" Panacea said, giving me the kind of look people in public give you when you are caught trying to steal one of the exhibits from a museum in front of a bunch of preschoolers. There's no story behind that, none at all. The other nurse gives me the same look. I clam up, suddenly not really willing to talk about in anymore.

The implications were very unsettling, apparently I really had died, and apparently I was sent back. Why? I didn't deserve this, especially since the whole apocalypse thing was my fault in the first place, if I hadn't grabbed the Key than the apocalypse wouldn't have started. Sure, you could say that I had also fixed my mistake and you could even argue that I had actually saved the world.

However, my mistake was not a harmless mistake, in fact it was one of the most horrendous mistakes anybody had ever made. Thousands, most likely even millions had died from my actions, catastrophic disasters had hit the globe while I was off wandering the jungle, wasting time there when I decided to keep pushing, when I should have just waited for the weather to clear.

"-all right?" Panacea was waving a hand in my face. I blinked and refocused, realizing I fell into introspection, most of it negative.

"What?" I rasped, looking at her directly. Something in my gaze must've unsettled her, since she immediately looked away.

"I was just saying that you're all fixed up. You really should take care, it looked like you were mauled by a wild animal, and there was enough infections in your blood that you would've been dead before the week was out, even with regular hospital care."

"Thank you," I responded immediately, squashing the insidious thought that maybe she should've let me die.

"It's," She paused and really looked at me, "All that I should do for the one who killed Leviathan. You're a hero you know. Everyone is going to want to speak to you. Everyone is going to want to use you, don't let that happen."

She gave me one last searching look, which I caught and held, this time she didn't look away. She nodded and looking satisfied, left, sliding the curtain closed as she did.

I looked up as the armored man and tried a joke, seemed the only thing I could do after the heavy silence that Panacea left, "Don't tell anybody about my infections."

He just looked at me blankly, I couldn't read his expression. Yeah, I wasn't that good at jokes, should stick to the tomb raiding shtick. I drew in a deep breath, on the other hand, maybe it was time to give all that up for a while. After all, it had caused a lot of trouble.

* * *

"Colin, Colin!" A soft voice woke Armsmaster. Colin recognized it immediately as Dragon, it felt like he had heard her voice by his side for years, even though he intellectually knew that they actually hadn't collaborated for very long.

For all their collaboration they had failed. Or rather he had failed. The prediction software, another failure. His temporal anchoring halberd, a failure. His nano-thorn halberd, its exquisite workmanship and sheer perfection, another failure. He hadn't even managed to harm the beast, only leaving superficial wounds.

He flashed back to that moment, it was before the software failed, when he felt the first inkling of doubt, when the nano-thorn wasn't digging as deeply into Leviathan as it should've. He should have changed his approach then, should have known that he couldn't beat Leviathan. After all even Hero couldn't defeat him.

"Colin, Colin! It worked!"

Wait, what?

"Leviathan is dead!"

That was Dragon's voice. What was she saying, Armsmaster struggled to open his eyes. They opened to the sterile white ceiling tiles of the Brockton Bay Hospital. He had been in these rooms many times before, but only rarely as the patient.

"What worked? He's dead?" he rasped.

"The nano-thorn, it was used to kill Leviathan!" Dragon's face materialized on the little wrist gauntlet that he still wore despite being mostly stripped of his armor. Her face was as always slightly digitized, but as usual it showed real emotion. His other arm was missing, ne noted with fleeting horror. His thoughts, however, revolved about only one thing.

"It worked?"

"Yes, a local villian, Skitter, used it to carve a hole in Leviathan and then a hero, who seems to be going by Croft, got the killing blow using the hole made by your nano-thorn!" Dragon replied, her eyes dancing with life, he could tell that she was pleased.

"My armor!" he said, already forming several plans. He needed to speak with Skitter, she had to join the Wards now. With this kind of public showing it would be disastrous for his image if a villian gained all the accolades for his weapon. The other plans he was considering rested on who exactly this Croft was.

"Croft?" He asked dragon, spying his armor by the door and moving to put it on. One of the healers, probably Panacea, had stopped the bleeding and sealed up his arm, but the loss of the limb still gnawed at him. The design for a prosthetic danced in his thoughts, maybe a halberd arm? That would be efficient, yes, a halberd arm with a nano-thorn.

"The young woman in the Mayan costume that distracted Leviathan from killing you," Dragon said, watching his reaction carefully. Briefly, he felt a blaze of anger, maybe if she hadn't taken shots at Leviathan with her weapons Leviathan would've still been predictable. He carefully squashed that anger, it was unbecoming of a hero, even if she was a bit stupid for shooting at Leviathan with an ordinary wooden bow.

She had managed to kill Leviathan after all, so maybe there was more to her than first appearances.

"How did she kill Leviathan?"

"Stabbed him in what appeared to be a core of some kind with an obsidian dagger."

Armsmaster resisted the urge to sigh. How could an obsidian dagger slay Leviathan when even his nano-thorn failed to deal a killing blow? Maybe she was as stupid as she appeared, and only succeeded through sheer blind luck.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Baaaaarrrruuummm…

Baaaaarrrruuummm…

A clarion call echoed through the deeps. I raised my head and twisted as it came, moving again after a long time of inactivity. The clarion call echoed again, it came from the west. Always, it came again and again, when all I wanted was to rest.

Baaaaarrruuuummm…

It called me, even here in the deep, just as it called my brothers and sisters, both sleeping and waking. The clarion call, always pulling, never ceasing. I knew that if I answered, the destruction of the surface would follow.

Baaaarrrruuummmm…

I began to move, knowing that far far above the organisms of flesh, carbon and water, would react to my direction shortly. All I wanted was to rest.

Baaarrrruuummm...

Always I or one of my siblings must answer the call. I moved forward, faster and faster, already the clarion call drew me to a target, a gathering of flesh and steel. A habitation of those above, frail things, they died easily, made of but carbon and water.

I continued on, eventually breaching the surface. As always they waited, the caller and the bearers.

I saw them with both water and sight. Vast crystalline structures as far as my senses could see, enough to drive one of the frail things mad. I could not strike the crystal, it existed on a different plane than I, but I could see them. Twining and twisting in arboreal forms, sometimes almost touching, yet never actually. The dimensional walls were strong.

My eyes snapped open, and I yawned, I must've fallen asleep. I rubbed tiredly at my eyes and glanced at the digital clock resting against the nightstand. The curtains were still drawn around me just as the armored escort had left them.

The time was really only about half an hour since Panacea had left me. I must've slipped asleep for just a moment there. Small wonder that it hadn't happened sooner. As I recall I was running on no sleep for… actually I had trouble remembering when I had last slept. I looked around for my satchel, it was still by my side.

At least nobody had disturbed my things. I dug through it, rooting around for one of my endurance berries. I didn't need any painkillers or extra perception at the moment, I just needed to be awake.

I found one of the pale green berries and popped it into my mouth, the taste was heavy and acidic and was the most powerful stimulant I had come across. I waited a moment as the deep sleepiness that threatened to overtake receded by inches as my body absorbed the stimulant. Even if my earlier sleep was dreamless, and I had no need to chance it again with a deeper doze.

My fingers grazed over the handle of the Key and I drew it forth, regarding it for a long moment, staring into my reflection in the dark obsidian shard that remained. I turned it over, there was nothing particularly special about it. Wood, gold, and obsidian. Nothing indicated that it had been used to kill a god and what could probably be classed as a demigod earlier.

I returned it to my satchel and leveraged myself upright. I had braced for pain, but none came. Huh, that Panacea does a pretty good job. Maybe I'll have to see about getting her help next time I'm injured. It would sure cut down on the wait time between, ahem, highly enthusiastic and spontaneous expeditions.

I looked down at my ruined clothes and then pawed around in my satchel, I was sure I had some extra clothes in here somewhere…

Sighing I pulled out my jaguar pelt fragments. I guess this was as good as I could get. Oh wait, my fingers grazed against familiar fabric and I pulled it out, it got stuck on my ascender for a moment and I had to give it my all.

It was at that moment that my curtains parted, and a voice called out in question, "Croft?"

I froze, one hand in my satchel for a moment. I blazed into action after my brief hesitation, quickly throwing my jaguar shift on, at least it would cover up the gaping bloody hole in the chest of the Blue Heron tunic. Even if it wasn't exactly the most flattering.

A woman in torn and stained military fatigues, with an American flag bandanna entered my impromptu room.

"Hello," She said, doing something weird with her eyes, "My name is Ms. Militia."

"Um," what my coherant response, "I'm Croft."

"If you're alright with it, the Director would like to speak with you."

I paused and actually took the time to think about it a moment. The director of what, exactly? Director of the superheroes? A superhero named Director? A machine that was called Director?

"Director?"

"Director Piggot, Head of the PRT East-North-East."

PRT? That was an acronym, or I've never heard one before. I quickly glanced over Ms. Militia, payed particular attention to her uniform. No medals or ribbon rack, of course since she was in BDU's it only made sense not to have either. However, she also had neither branch insignia nor name patch. I had no idea what she was supposed to represent. Beyond America, because of the bloody American flag bandanna.

You wouldn't catch me wearing a Union Jack bandanna. My mind went somewhere rather strange and I forced the urge to blush down, only partially successfully. All right, you wouldn't find me in just a Union Jack bandanna.

"Lead the way," I said instead and slung my satchel over my shoulder. I heard heated talking down a hallway as I stepped out from behind the heavy blue curtains. I recognized Armsmaster's voice and frowned, he sounded quite incensed. I also heard Legend's voice calming him down.

All in all, probably not my problem. I resolved to ignore them, despite the doctors and nurses who seemed rather distracted. A man in an ornate golden lion's head mask nodded respectfully as I passed him. Not that I could actually tell whether he was respectful, since the mask covered his face. I settled on nodding back.

We passed a checkpoint and entered into an empty room where a table and two chairs sat. The room itself was small, and rather spartan. That was to be expected, since it was probably just a spare patient room in what I suspected was a hospital. I carefully stepped over to the seat past Ms. Militia, who held the door open for me to enter. Frankly, my skin absolutely crawled to show her my back, but I powered through. You need to trust some people in life were benign, or you'd end up trusting nobody.

I settled into the chair and drew my pistol, placing it on the table. Ms. Milita glanced at it, with what I suspected was disapproval.

"It's polite to put your weapons on the table when negotiating," I told her, with a pointed glance at the pistol by her side. She snorted lightly and shook her head. I hoped she was amused rather than dismissive.

The chair groaned as I tilted it back, probably not made with overly restless people in mind. I tapped the floor, letting out some of the energy I had gained from my "endurance" berry earlier. My foot was repeating a rapid staccato by the time the door opened again and heavy set woman entered.

She was blonde and looked like she was quite a bit heavier than was healthy for her body weight. However, my brief glance at her revealed that it probably wasn't necessarily unhealthy life choices that kept her from being fit but rather an old wound. Or so I would guess from the micro expression that crossed her face, that spoke of expected pain, as she lowered herself into the stiff plastic chair.

"Good afternoon," She started cordially, "I am Director Piggot of the Protectorate East-North-East."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," I replied, "I am Lady Lara Croft."

"You're British?" Piggot asked, looking at me with scrutinizing eyes. I gave no visible reaction but I recognized such as gaze. This was a woman that had looked at death itself and survived, and made hard decisions at the same time. I knew those eyes, because that same hard gaze because it looked out of my eyes when I saw myself in a mirror.

"I am," I responded, adopting my best posh British accent. She was quite clearly American, so best to convince her that she might not have the authority to detain me without an incident with one of America's oldest allies. A moment later I considered that this might actually be a bad thing, since who knows how Britain is regarded in what was most likely another world.

"And nobility?"

"My father was."

"I see," Piggot replied and looked down at her briefcase. She removed a few papers and looked at them, "I can arrange transport back to England if you wish, but I would appreciate it if you heard me out first."

"Speak," I responded, keeping my emotions contained. I languished the fact that I actually had no idea what was going on. Who were the Protectorate? What was the PRT? Who was Director Piggot? What was going on? Why were there superheroes? The list goes on and on.

"You are going to have a lot of people seeking to control you, you killed an Endbringer. I'm not sure if you understand the magnitude of what you've accomplished. People have been trying to kill one since 1992."

Leviathan was an Endbringer? There was more than one? I resisted the urge to curse, since that would give away that I hadn't known what she was talking about, since she was talking in the rhetorical sense not in the lectorial.

"In fact the Yang-ban already tried to enter the hospital just ten minutes ago, part of the reason I was late to this meeting. Such attempts to reach you, especially to manipulate you will only increase the longer you stay unaffiliated. And it is no secret that you must be a new cape, since you haven't appeared anywhere that we can find before. I only ask that you consider joining the Protectorate, you'll have back-up and teammates to protect you. No matter who you are, you can't keep going forever, and when you rest they will find you when you least suspect it."

Well, that was quite a lengthy spiel. I had no idea who the Yang-ban were but from the way she spoke of them, I deduced that they must be rather fearsome. Hear was the terminology about capes again, which I still didn't know.

"I'll bear what you said in mind," I finally said, affixing my best diplomatic tone. There was no way I was committing to anything without access to the internet to see what exactly was going on with this place. I leaned forward and met her yes, taking a spare moment to brush my unruly and dirty hair out of my eyes so I could stare at her more directly. She looked into my eyes for a moment before sighing tiredly.

"Yes, please, bear it in mind, we will always be willing to offer you a place in the Protectorate," She paused then, as if remembering something sour, "No matter when you decide to join or under any circumstance."

"Thank you," I told her, "I appreciate the offer of membership."

"That being said, would you be willing to elucidate how exactly you killed Leviathan? And maybe be willing to give up the tinkertech you used to kill him?"

"Tinkertech?" I rolled the strange word over, drawing out the syllabes, "I don't believe it is 'tinkertech', in fact it's not technology at all. It's a three thousand year old knife I picked up in a Mayan ruin in the Amazon."

Piggot just stared. I could tell she wanted to ask some very pointed questions and honestly I couldn't blame her, three thousand year old Mayan knives are not ordinary pocket change.

"And you killed Leviathan with this 'three thousand year old Mayan knife'?"

"Yes, and it was actually an athame, not just an ordinary knife, it was used in ritual sacrifices."

"Sacrifices, right," Piggot said, giving me a look before continuing, "Alright, how did you know Leviathan had a weak point?"

She glanced down at the papers. I spotted the word "Croft" on one.

"I eat berries and sometimes I see things," I replied, partially just to mess with her. After all the excitement today and this interrogation, I wasn't feeling as helpful as I would ordinarily be.

"You "saw" where Leviathan's weakness was after eating berries?" Piggot asked, looking at me incredulously.

"In essence, yes," I responded. That wasn't actually true, but it sure sounded more credible then I see stuff on command all the time, which may or may not be hallucinations. They probably aren't hallucinations though, since they usually are helpful.

"I see," Piggot finally said and just shuffled some papers around, "Are you willing to share these berries?"

"No!" I said, not able to control myself. Those were _my_ berries. Piggot raised an eyebrow, and I elaborated, "They're _mine_."

Piggot wrote something down on her notebook, "Where were you before you came to Brockton Bay?"

I hummed, to answer or not to answer, before deciding on an answer that was mostly true, "An old Incan city in Peru."

"Hmm," Piggot said, and wrote it down, "Why?"

I flashed back to my failure for a moment. The arc of the Key descending. Dominguez. The oil fields, burning. My breathing quickened, hopefully imperceptibly.

"I-I'd rather not say."

Piggot glanced up and then down at her notebook again, writing something more. She looked back up and leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers.

"That concludes your debriefing then," she said, "We at the PRT would greatly appreciate it if you came down to the rig-the downtown Protectorate building for power testing. Remember in the future the PRT is always willing to help you no matter what's happening."


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

My direction from there was completely obvious. I Immediately availed myself of the PRT's generosity while not committing to anything. Instead, they gave me a shower. It was probably as much for their benefit as mine. I was covered in cloth that had experienced Peruvian jungle mud, an ungodly amount of salt water, and copious splatterings of blood.

That wasn't even taking into account the sweat that was probably permanently imbibed into the fabric. The jaguar shift also didn't help any, since the hide hadn't even been properly cleaned, or tanned, so there were still pieces of fleshy skin on it. It also stunk to high heaven, like an animal.

I wasn't about to dispose of it though, how many people get to wear the pelt of a jaguar they defeated in single combat? It was disgusting, however, and I would either have to finish the tanning process myself, or find a tanner here in this city. No way I would be able to get it through customs.

Regarding international travel I must admit that part of me was inclined to make my way back to England and see if I really had switched worlds. Two things stopped me, firstly, I had lost my passport somewhere along the way. The second was I wasn't sure I wanted to know whether I was actually in another world or not.

The PRT supplied a shower, at the hospital's expense, I presume, since I didn't need to move from the building. It was a little stall in an out of the way staff room. There was a generic soap brand, which I couldn't be bothered to remember and some shampoo and conditioner. Barely anything else.

I could think of only a few reasons that a hospital would need a shower for the staff, some of them charitable, the others rather nasty. Regardless, I showered quickly, part of me wished I had shower shoes.

The other part was like, really? You want shower shoes when you've tramping around the jungle and wilderness and always managing to find the absolute grossest stuff to either swim through or accidently fall into. Swimming in pools of blood, ah, my favorite. Not.

I suppose I was lucky this was a shower and not a bath, since this way the profoundly dirty water went down the drain rather than gather all around me. I mean there was an awful amount of dirt.

When I stepped out of the cold spray I looked much better and felt cleaner than I had since my jaunt in Mexico. Thinking back on it, that was probably where I had last had a decent shower.

Again, nobody had disturbed my satchel, or even my old garments, so I bundled up the old Blue Heron tunic and my filthy undergarments and wrapped the jaguar shift around them. I had spotted some hospital scrubs and walked over to them. They were still sealed and sanitary so I found something in my size, and pulled them out of their sanitary plastic covering. I didn't need the top, since I had my grey one, and it wasn't nearly in a bad enough condition to warrant placing it with the rest of my ruined clothing.

I just wanted the scrub pants. It was better than wearing nothing. I pulled them on, the green looked fine with my grey top, but now I just needed shoes. I had left my boots back in Unuratu's hideout when I first donned the Blue Heron tunic (with matching sandals). Now I really felt the lack of boots since I didn;t have sandals left.

I lost one in my first skirmish with Leviathan, the other he had forcefully removed the sole right before I killed him. The floor was cold, and made my feet cold, but it wasn't as bad as Siberia. I decided I would just deal with it, since I didn't see any wild footwear anywhere.

Deciding to actually take stock of what I had, I poured out my satchel carefully on the room's rickety plastic table. Of course I had my holster and pistol, and about 12 rounds of loose 50. Cal for the River Hawk, not counting the rounds currently loaded into its gargantuan abomination of a magazine. I had my reinforced knife, and the rope ascender. I dumped my scrap metal on the table, now that I am back in civilization I really don't need it, and it wasn't that much anyways. Barely a handful of pieces.

I had the Key of Chak Chel, with half the obsidian blade. If I went back to Leviathan's body, which I resolved to do, I could get the other half. Provided it was still there.

I had a bunch of berries, more of the red ones than anything else. I carefully didn't count them, even if would be wiser to do so. I was resolved to ignore confronting the issue of my dwindling supply until I could actually rectify it. I was tempted to take a health berry but there was no need, I wasn't even injured.

I had my radio, which was still dead. No idea what happened to it, either the transit from the altar damaged it, or it was finally destroyed by the water after I arrived. Either way I could replace…

Um, I blanched when I realized something. If this was another world, as I had begun to suspect than I had no money. If I had no money I wouldn't be able to replace anything. I dug through the remaining junk and relaxed as I found two Incan gold coins.

I had never really paid attention to the going price of gold but even I knew that genuine Incan coins would fetch a pretty pound from a museum or even a collector. That didn't change the fact that I would be destitute soon if I didn't find something to do.

For the first time I gave serious thought to Piggot's offer. If I joined the Protectorate I would have money, and money was good. However, that would also probably mean giving my identity to the United States government, which might find that I didn't exist. Or I might find out that there was a lot of freaky stuff that was going on, and I was still on the same world, reality, or wherever I was.

I stilled, pausing as another thought reached me. Was this my fault? Kukulkan had the power to remake reality. Something was clearly wrong with this place. Had I caused this? Mechanically, I went about placing all my belongings back into the satchel, ending with the gross cloth bundle. I hung both my axes from my waist bandoleer and buckled my pistol holster to my scrubs.

Well, I thought distantly, in a kind of floaty dreamlike haze of horror, it doesn't matter wondering over if this is my fault. It just as well might be something else. I held onto that thought, repating it a few times for good measure.

Not my fault.

Not my fault.

I breathed out and looked in the mirror, calm again. Or at least there was thin veneer of calm over boiling turmoil, but I could cope. I snorted slightly, amused despite myself. I looked ridiculous. A grey top and green hospital scrubs with the bandoleer and pistol. I looked like a nutcase. The messy hair didn't help anything, I tried to get it under control, and almost succeeded before it all just slipped back to the way it was. I needed like a piece of twine or a ribbon or something. I groaned in exasperation.

I heard the shuffle of feet just outside the door and moved towards it, hand drifting towards my pistol unprompted. I slung my bow and quiver over my shoulder, snatching up my filled satchel as I passed. I left various pieces of junk behind that were useless now that I was back in some kind of civilization.

I swung the door open, just spotting a flash of skin-tight purple and white as someone turned the far corner, moving away from me. My gaze caught a flash of silver as I moved forward and I stopped, staring down at my feet. A cell phone rested there.

Feeling unusually conscious I picked it up. It was a flip-phone, probably pretty old since I couldn't recall the last time I saw a flip-phone in a first world country. I flipped it open, there was no passcode, obviously. I flipped it shut and slid it into my satchel, I'd figure that out later.

Just a bare moment passed before the armored guard that had been escorting me around appeared from behind the hallways other corner. He seemed agitated, but stayed quiet as he approached me. He looked down the hallway where the purple and white costumed woman had gone and then relaxed marginally.

"Ready to leave?" He asked, the modulator changing his voice to an indistinct electronic tone.

"Yes," I replied, shifting my stuff around on my shoulder blades. Carrying a quiver, bow, and satchel at the same time leaves some strange abrasions, on occasion.

"Word or warning," the guard said, "the press is waiting at the entrance for you. If you want we can avoid them, go out the back."

I scoffed, replying, "I can take them."

"Lady Croft, Lady Croft!"

It turns out the press was way more annoying than I thought they would be. Especially, since it seems I had turned into a minor celebrity overnight. I guess, I should've expected such from the speech Piggot subjected me to earlier. Killing Leviathan was a Big Deal apparently.

"Are you single?!"

"Is it true-"

"Are you related to Alexandria?"

"Yes, probably not, who?" I responded, pointing at each of the speakers in turn. The woman who asked the relationship question fairly swooned and I glared at her.

"You don't know w-" another reporter got cut him off, pushing to the front, "I'm Robert Doon, with the Brockton Gazette, and I want to ask why you didn't kill Leviathan sooner?"

The crowd quieted a little and I sighed, honestly I should've expected a question like that. I didn't let it strike home and decided to be diplomatic.

"I literally couldn't kill him before the moment I did, my knife wasn't strong enough to go through his flesh on its own," At least, it certainly seemed that way, "That bug girl used, um, Armsmaster's? Yes, Armsmaster's nano-halberd-thing to carve his arse off, then I was able to stab his heart."

"What are your powers?" Another reporter screamed at me, the moment I finished answering the previous question. In my head I imagined that what he had just said appearing in all caps in a little text box, that was how loud he was.

"I survive," I told him simply. If anything I did even counted as a power it was my sheer ability to live through stuff. The island, the tombs, the apocalypse, a bloody jaguar stalking me in the jungle for three days.

"Are you really nobility?"

"Can I have your kids?"

"What's your cape name?"

I ignored any further questions, raising my climbing axe, the closest reporters stumbled back, suddenly cognizant that they were overcrowding me. I tossed my good axe, it sailed through the air upwards and smashed into a window across the street and several stories up. Oops. I grabbed my ascender and let it pull me away.

I spared just a moment to answer the last barrage of questions I could remember, and the shellshocked press watched me leave.

"Yes. And no, that's biologically impossible, and even taking in a different context, absolutely not. Finally, I don't know what that even means."

They just watched in silence as I walked up the side of the building, letting my ascender pull me up. Once I reached the top of the building I glanced down to make sure they weren't following me, they weren't bit I decided to just travel along the rooftops anyways.

The amount of devastation and ruin at ground level would make walking treacherous and I would get my feet wet. I tried not to do that unless it was necessary, which usually meant all the time, but I didn't want to make a habit of it.

Where should I go? I cast my gaze around, looking at the various sides of the city, and then glancing at the sun. I had about five, maybe six hours of sun left, and the temperature seemed manageable even if it went down earlier.

In order, my priorities were; find Leviathan and get the piece of the Key back, second, find the internet and discover where I was exactly, third… I had no third yet, but I was sure I would soon.

End of Arc 1


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

So it feels a little silly to admit it but I got lost last night and ended up literally sleeping in a ditch. It was a little cold, and quite a bit wetter than I would have liked but I managed to make it work.

My explorations around the city had revealed some important things. Firstly, there was an enormous derelict graveyard of honest to God ships, that took up a significant portion of the city and bay. There was also a mostly abandoned dock area and trainyard warehouse area.

All in all, the city seemed to be decaying. Really, with the lack of infrastructure, both the useless docks and abandoned trainyard, the city should really be a third of the size. Any company that set up would only have trucking to move its resources, since Brockton Bay appeared to have no airfield. I was honestly left a little puzzled on what the majority of the people in Brockton Bay even did, but I digress.

The reason I ended up sleeping in a ditch was simple. Apparently, the disaster, Leviathan, meant that there was precious few establishments open. None of which were food or shelter. So I toughed it up and slept alongside a residential area, in a ditch. I wasn't bothered and awoke bright and early anyways, so I was gone before anybody noticed.

Definitely not the worst place I had ever slept. I would tentatively give that to the island, specifically the Cannibal's Den. There really wasn't any place worse than upside down, tied up, with a bunch of potential meals, wondering when he'd be back for you. The rebar sticking straight up in the floor below also didn't help much, oh, and the fire too.

That being said, it all turned out okay because this morning I managed to find a small restaurant to eat at. Evidentially, my earlier deduction on the time it would take food and shelter to be running in the city was a little flawed I didn't have American money but I decided I'd cross that hurdle when I came to it. After all, just maybe I could trade some little trinket or story for a meal. It served me well enough in some of the more rural village places I'd visited.

I scoffed inwardly, yeah, unlikely, more likely I'd end up arrested or thrown out for being unable to pay. The diner itself was fairly small, just a few booths and tables, and one tired looking man standing behind a counter.

I pushed on the door, it opened with a jingle of bells and I was inside in the next moment. I saw the tired man's white eyebrows rise in surprise and rise almost to his hairline. I supposed he was either surprised by my garb, hospital scrubs and a torn and slightly stained grey top, or possibly the weapons. After all, how many people walk around in a civilized place with axes, a bow, and guns?

I smoothly glided past the empty chairs and tables, the places was deathly quiet, not even a little electronic tune to break the silence. The man was pale, I suddenly noticed, deathly pale.

"G-good morning," he croaked out, swallowed audibly, and then continued, "What can I get you?"

I glanced over the menu that rested on a sign above the man, it was a little unfamiliar. The full breakfast wasn't even a proper full breakfast, since it had neither black pudding or baked beans, but that wasn't really an issue. I'd eaten much worse then an improperly made breakfast.

"The full breakfast," I replied. I smiled as the thought of nice warm eggs and bacon invaded my mind. My, maybe civilization did have some uses, I thought to myself, highly amused.

"It's on the house," He said, and seemed to choke up a little. After a long moment, he just gave me a little nod, and started to prepare the meal right there on the counter, since it contained both a mini grill and girdle. I watched for a moment in silence, a vague suspicion of why it was on the house reaching my mind.

"You killed him," The man must've happened to feel my inquisitive gaze on him, "Leviathan, he k-killed my baby-"

He bit back a sob and started to earnestly cry. I felt tears of sympathy prick the corners of my eyes, but I didn't really know what to say. You're welcome? That didn't feel right. I rubbed my face tiredly, and looked away as he continued to cry.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. It felt more like I wasn't really apologizing for his daughter so much as to everybody I hadn't managed to save. The old man sniffed and nodded, steeling himself and returned to making my breakfast.

When it was done he placed it on the counter and spoke gruffly, "You can sit wherever you want. I doubt I'll have many more customers today."

"Yes," I replied softly, still a little off center from his earlier display of emotion, "The city is in bad condition. A bad sort will be the ones mostly about now. I've seen it after disasters before."

He nodded, trying to appear resolute, "Calamities always bring out the worst in people. Here-"

He handed me a little piece of plastic, I turned it over in my hand a moment, feeling the little buttons, letters and numbers in soft plastic. Oh, it was television remote! I grimly refused to consider what exactly it meant that I was so unfamiliar with the normal trappings of society that a simple remote, an everyday civilian object, would stump me for even a moment.

Turning away I slid into an unoccupied booth, by which I meant I just slid into the nearest one, since all of them were unoccupied. I pressed the power button, aiming it towards a small TV screen in the corner of the pasty yellow walls of the diner.

"This is Alisha Van Nike with Brockton Bay News," A newscaster snapped from the screen. Just my luck, catching her just after a commercial break or right upon the start of the hour. Ms. Van Nike was a twenty something blonde with pearly white teeth and tanned skin, she was dressed in a blue cardigan with a grey shirt underneath.

"With me is noted political commentator Dr. Robert Board, a tenured professor of political science at Princeton University."

Professor Beard on the other hand had a thick dark beard, and was dressed in a suit that was maybe a size or two too small for him. He was a large man, but not necessarily fat.

"As I was saying," Beard said on the television. I focused on savoring my fried eggs, I hadn't had a good poached egg in a long time.

"You can see in this clip when "the Endslayer"" He did little finger quotes as he said the word "Endslayer", "speaks about Alexandria. She's clearly mocking the PRT."

"How so?" Van Nike replied after a moment, a little clip, without sound, plays behind her, showing me surrounded by the paparazzi from yesterday. Alexandria? In hindsight saying I didn't know who she was, was probably a poor decision. It just confirmed that I didn't belong or know what was going on. Alexandria was obviously important and a household name.

"Alexandria is widely regarded as the strongest heroic woman on the planet, and for good reason, but she's failed to kill an Endbringer. Then we have this-this Croft that came out of nowhere and did what she failed to do. What's more she did it alone. If that isn't an insult to the PRT then I don't know what it could be."

"Now PHO-" Van Nike started, but was cut off by Prof. Beard.

"Those crackpots? I saw their asinine theory already, they're saying she's an alien or dimensional traveler. Ha! That's idiotic, my theory makes a lot more sense. Occam's razor and all that."

I switched the TV off. Spending a moment to wallow in silence. The eggs which I'd previously enjoyed felt like slime in my mouth, and the bacon was suddenly bland and I struggled to choke it down. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

I pushed my meal away after a long moment and stood, I felt bad leaving my half eaten food here, especially when the man who gave it to me seemed so glad to make it for me. Actually, who was I kidding, he was literally crying as he made it. Still, I felt guilty. I sighed and dropped one of my few gold coins on the table. There, conscience, feel better?

After a short moment I exited the diner, their was still very few people milling about. In fact I only spotted one person, power walking down the street, with a backpack on his back, and a stick in his hand.

"Ah, Fraulein Croft," A heavy and more importantly fake german accent spoke up behind me and I turned quickly towards the voice, hand flying up towards my axe as I did so. A man in a Waffen Schutzstaffel costume stood in front of me. I struggled not to let the man see my face twist into an expression of disgust at the sight of the Nazi imagery.

"I," He continued, noting my attention was firmly on him, "would like to convey the gratitude of the Empire, and extend an invitation."

"Gratitude," I said slowly, tasting the word in my mouth. It was sour, what could a Nazi be thanking me for?

"Yes, for slaying Leviathan and avenging our leader Kaiser, who was killed by the monster."

"I see," I said stoically, staring into the twitching blue eyes of the man in front of me. Most of his face was obscured by his black domino mask and Waffen SS officers cap, but enough expression remained that I could tell that he was at the very least very wary of me.

"I am called Krieg," He continued after a long moment. Belatedly, I realized that he probably expected me to say more, but I refused to engage with the Nazi, this Krieg, more than I was. My fingers twitched, and I forced down the urge to sudden violence. He hadn't done anything to me yet, so violence was unneeded.

"I believe that you would benefit greatly from our assistance. You are of good english stock, good aryan stock, nobility, if what you say is true," He regarded me with searching eyes. Not a single one of my muscles moved, not even a twitch, and he continued to speak.

"Even with the death of our leader we still command the greatest number of parahumans the city has ever seen, and furthermore, we are the lesser of two evils. We have the power to protect you from the Yangban, who are looking for you even now. You are lucky we found you first…"

"We?" I said, suddenly focusing on him, and watching as survival instincts activated, bathing my surroundings in greyscale.

"I had hoped to avoid escalating," Kreig said softly, before raising his voice, "Victor!"


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

"You must think I'm being terribly unsubtle," Kreig said, allowing a smirk to grace his face. Another man in black and red stepped out from a nearby alley, and blue eyes stared straight into mine, which had snapped towards him at the movement.

My fingers pulled my axe free as I quickly analyzed him. He was a tall man, about one point eight meters tall, or five feet ten or eleven as an American would say. He had a black metal breastplate which didn't look like it would stop a large round but probably worked fine against knives and 22. Caliber bullets. Not likely to stop a 9mm or larger. My axe would have trouble penetrating since it was missing its tip but his head was unprotected, except by a flimsy black cloth mask and the flesh and bone would be no impediment.

Victor shuddered, a slow motion that seemed to start in his spine and work its way out. I could hear his shallow breaths from five meters away. He had a pistol, a 1911, in his hand, which I recognized instantly. It was quite an iconic pistol after all, and this one looked well cared for, not a high chance of misfire. The pistol was pointed away from me so for the moment I refrained from striking first.

However, I did allow my hand to drift upwards and rest over my River Hawk. A subtle warning. After all, this Krieg mentioned escalation.

Kreig stepped away, turning to face the distance and waved his arms.

"Normally," He began, as Victor stood quietly to the side, "We'd bring you into our little group slowly, offering you help when needed until finally you decided to join us despite any previous moral scruples you had. Yes, I'm well aware that the rest of the world sees us, proud Aryans, as misled, but your options are limited, Fraulein."

"How so?" I growled, the words coming out almost mangled as I resisted the growing urge to just kill him right there. It was obvious that he was trying to draw me into a sense of complacency before, with the whole 'ally waiting in the alley' thing.

"You must know by now that you cannot hope to stay unattached for long? Even know the PRT is probably watching you, just remotely. And our own reconnascience agents have momentarily distracted the Yangban agents but they won't be gone for long."

Yet again the mention of these 'Yangban' which I had no idea who they were. I wasn't about to repeat the previous mistake I made yesterday by giving away too much knowledge. Specifically, that I had no idea who they were. I phrased my question carefully, in the brief moment he had given me while waiting for my response.

"Why exactly, should I worry about the Yangban?"

Kreig smiled, "Confident in the PRT's protection, Fraulein? At least we in the Empire don't subject our recruits to torture or indoctrination, turning our soldiers into unthnking machines."

He smiled genially, and I allowed my lips to slip towards a smirk of my own. Every word of what he just said was a lie. A convincing lie, and even a veteran interrogator might've missed the tells. Survival instincts showed me his heart, and the beat sped up, slightly but noticeably.

My heart in turn seemed to ache, and Victor shuddered slowly again.

I crossed my arms, still holding my axe and leaned back a little. My body angled away from him, providing a smaller profile if Victor started to shoot. It also hid the fact that I pulled my River Hawk free from its holster, since it was now concealed by my leg.

"I really don't see any good reason at all to come with you. You are entirely unconvincing, and you're a liar," I replied, moving my gaze back to Kreig, "I can handle the 'Yangban' just fine."

Kreig smiled, and I felt time shift, speeding up, falling into bullet time. He was about to attack I knew in my bones. In the heightened speed of survival instincts I saw Victor diving for cover, bringing up his pistol as he did so.

My arm snapped up, pistol rising and as soon as its barrel began to move over Kreig's body I fired. He staggered, almost falling to one knee, but the bullet hung in the air, deformed and misshapen.

I myself didn't allow Victor to get a bead on me and slid forward, on the other side of the car that Victor was seeking shelter behind. I slammed into it with my shoulder, pushing it forward with a heave of effort. I heard Victor yelp in surprise as it shifted forward a few inches. I slammed to the ground and snapped off a shot under the car, right into his foot and he screamed.

I jumped into the air, narrowly avoiding a wave of air that smashed into the car and pushed it up onto the sidewalk. Yes, it is good to remember that anybody with a mask seemed to have powers.

Time slowed again and I pulled myself into a dive, sliding under a gust of unnaturally sharp wind, which shimmered in the air. Another man, this one in red and black as well, but with a snarling cat mask strode out of the alley way that Victor exited earlier.

I mentally berated myself, stupid of me to assume that just because I caught Kreig's slip into the plural that he would reveal both his companions. That actually worried me since I didn't know who else was waiting around and what powers they exactly seemed to have.

Wildly gyrating gusts of wind deflected the next two shots I sent towards the Tiger masked man. I activated survival instincts, and raised my pistol again, aiming at the specific spot that survival instincts practically crooned to shoot at.

Boom!

The man in the tiger mask staggered, and I saw a bloom of red on his stomach. I was stopped from seeing whether he needed another round when I felt something I shouldn't be feeling at all, shortness of breath.

I quickly stepped backwards, coincidentally moving away from Kreig and the pressure lessened, allowing me to draw in a single strangled breath. Kreig had his balance back and began to approach me, growing fury written all over his face.

I slammed my hand into my quiver, still backpedaling rapidly and pulled loose an arrow, not stopping to see whether what exactly it was I let it fly at Victor. Kreig ignored it as it sailed past him, not realizing that he was not the target.

Victor saw the arrow spiraling towards him, its flight erratic from a damaged feather fletch, and attempted to roll dodge but his ruined ankle collapsed and he wasn't able to get far enough away. The arrow struck him obliquely, the steel arrowhead leaving a long gash down his cheek. He spasmed.

Oh, I recognized that arrow now. I grinned nastily, which caused Kreig to pause his rapid advancement, one of my favorites.

"She's right there!" Victor screamed, his voice high pitched. He leveled his gun at Kreig's back and shot. The pistol bucked in his hand and he pulled the trigger again, sending another shot rattling forward

Kreig has started to turn at Victor's shout but wasn't fast enough, the bullet impacting his shoulder and sending him forward, away from the direction he was turning and back towards. I was already moving forward, climbing axe in hand. The second shot peirced Kreig's lower back and he screamed then, flailing out, I felt a wave of pressure pass over me, and I felt the stiffness of breath increase.

My axe spiraled up and into his chin in an underhanded strike. Kreig's eyeballs bulged in horror and pain, and I wrenched. There was a horrible cracking sound, the sound of flesh tearing and I pulled Kreig forward with my axe, throwing him to the ground.

The hallucinogen was short lived for Victor, he must've had a fast metabolism because the poison was already clearing from his system. As the first glimpses of sanity returned I threw my climbing axe, which slammed into his eye.

He dropped his gun to claw at his eye, even as he twitched in his own death throes. I stalked forward, stopping a moment to pull it free. It pulled free with a sickening squelch and I paused to look at his good eye, glazed over with pain and fear. I brought the axe down.

I stepped backwards a moment later, flinging droplets of blood off the axe as I did. A sharp gust of wind pushed Victor's ruined body forward. I turned and spotted the man in the tiger mask struggling to his feet. His eyes were wide and I could see the white of his eyes.

Easily, I slipped into survival instincts and stepped around his next attack, advancing towards him slowly. He began to get desperate as his second and third attacks failed, the yellow tinge in the greyscale world of survival instincts allowing me to dodge each of his strikes.

Once I was within striking distance he turtled up, surrounding himself in a swiftly gyrating shield of air. The wind was moving fast enough that I could barely see his hazy form under the shifting air.

I raised my pistol, and began to fire the fifty caliber rounds into his shields of air. After the first two he struck out, with a blade of condensed air, which I slipped under, doing a passable impression of a limbo dancer, or perhaps that scene with Neo in the Matrix.

His strike left just a stretch of air undisturbed, which I capitalized on, striking out swifting with my axe, breaking a forcefully forming pane of air and slamming into his kneecap.

He screamed, a brutal agonized sound, even as I brought my gun up. His weak gusts not nearly enough to throw me off course, I slammed my pistol barrel into his mouth and carried his body to the ground with the force of my movement.

His head slammed into the ground and his eyes rolled back, probably heavily concussed. I debated for a moment with myself. My arm shook as I fought the urge to pull the trigger. Fighting the urge to see the satisfaction of his blood painting the asphalt of the road.

I pulled my gun up and away from his mouth, and holstered it slowly. I looked down at the still body below me and considered. The bobbies would probably be here soon, and probably the PRT as well, if what Kreig was saying was true.

I spared a moment to glance at his broken body, taking in the shattered face and deformed neck. I felt a faint tinge of something stir inside me at the sight of the still twitching body, but pushed it down, unwilling to let it emerge.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

The red-painted face of Crimson Fire was before me. The scar tissue and most likely ritually removed upper lip added to her horrific visage. The carved bone and animalistic eyes adding to the sense that she was meant to be a demon. She stood above me, I heard my heart hammering in my chest. Faster and faster.

"Chak Chel," Crimson Fire growled, an animalistic sound that really shouldn't belong in the body of a human. The Key of Chak Chel grasped in a dripping bloody hand. The long bone claws still weeping the lifeblood of all the Trinity that Crimson Fire slew.

I blinked. The carved stone and unholy apparition of Crimson Fire vanished as if they never were. Or perhaps it was just a hallucination. The interior of Kukulkan's temple was gone, and I was standing at the mouth of an unremarkable alley. Or it would be unremarkable except for the body laying at its mouth.

The man with the tiger mask, I slipped into survival instincts and relaxed as I noticed his heartbeat was still slow. He was still unconscious. I had no idea what had just happened, was I suffering from post-traumatic stress? It didn't really fit though, or really I refused to consider such a possibility.

I looked down at my hands, in one was my pistol, my trusty River Hawk, in the other was my axe, currently dripping blood. I flicked the blade a little, flinging drops away, some landed on the tiger mask of the man below me.

"Ms. Croft? Ms. Croft!" As if through a fog I realized someone was trying to speak to me. Their tone was exceedingly wary and sounded like they had tried and failed to get my attention before.

I turned slowly to face the voice, letting my gaze pan over the rest of my impromptu battle scene. I refused to blanch at the gore before me. I didn't think I had been that messy. Kreig's body was still stuck in the same position I had left it in, that being the unnatural contortion that death had graced him with. His arterial blood was spread out in a bloody halo around his head and contributed to a growing pool under his body.

Victor's body was similarly still and silent. Shattered bone and brain fragments giving him his own macabre halo. The arrow that had struck his earlier was nowhere in sight.

"Croft?" The voice came again, and my vision snapped over to someone new. A large man in a blue uniform, marked with a silver badge that said "BBPD", had his hands out towards me in a warding gesture. On second thought it was probably intended as a calming gesture. The police officer took an involuntary step back as my eyes met his.

I wasn't quite sure what he saw in my eyes but he glanced away, not even meeting my eyes for a second. I wiped my face with the side of my arm, wiping away my gathered sweat. Wait, that was actually blood. I spared my arm a glance, I didn't remember being hit, so it must not be mine.

"Ma'am, ah, Miss," The officer tried to speak, "Would you mind giving your statement, ah, maybe before the PRT gets here?"

I looked around, just now noting three police squad cars, and another officer spreading yellow crime scene tape from one side of the road to another. There were another three officers by the squad cars, who were giving me guarded looks from behind their vehicles. Not quite true fear, but neither was it friendly.

I shook my head, whacking myself in the face with my bloody hair, I spared a long moment to brush it back, thinking for a moment.

"I suppose," I finally settled on. It was the lawful thing to do. Cooperate and all that.

The officer relaxed some more and stepped closer, mindful of the splattered blood from tiger mask's gunshot wound.

"Can you give me an orderly account of what happened, in your own words?"

"Well," I started, "We talked, they were Nazis, tried to recruit me-"

"Really?" The officer said, not really disbelieving what I was saying but almost rhetorically as if he was having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that someone tried to do so.

I nodded, a sharp but shallow motion, "I disagreed. Vehemently."

The officer scribbled a little on a little notebook that he had pulled out of a pouch on his uniform and then looked back at me as I finished speaking. I could tell that he wanted me to elaborate more, so I humored him.

"Kreig, that one in the Waffen SS uniform, tried to trick me, approaching me alone when I finished my breakfast-"

"That's Kreig?" One of the other police offices said, he had drawn a little closer when the original officer relaxed and started questioning.

"It was," I said without inflection. I wasn't sure how to respond. I hadn't been that brutal, had I?

The original officer shot him a look and he shut up, looking like he was going to be sick, "Breakfast, you were saying?"

"Ah," I gestured at the diner a little way down the street with my hand, "That one."

The officer squinted at the diner and wrote something down on his notepad.

I reflexively slipped into survival instincts, almost before I could process what set me off. A blur of red with white stripes shimmered into existence, despite the increased time granted by survival instincts.

I saw as he, for it was a man in a costume, slowed and stilled. As I slipped out of survival instincts, I spotted the sour look that the police officer shot his way.

He took a step backward and away from me, even as the man in the costume stepped forward. His head was on a swivel, lingering for a long moment on the corpses of Kreig and Victor.

"You've been busy," He said non-committedly. I thought he seemed just a little nonchalant about the situation. His lack of reaction hinted at a familiarity with death, absent in most people.

"My name is Velocity, I'm part of the Protectorate, what exactly happened here?" He continued after a pregnant moment.

"I've already taken her statement," the officer said defensively. I finally looked at him long enough, breaking out of my earlier almost dreamlike fugue. A little metal nameplate rested on his breast pocket. It said, Grant. He was Officer Grant then.

"Don't worry, citizen," Velocity said, sounding as if he had rehearsed, pinning Officer Grant with the featureless white eye holes on his fabric helmet, "I'll take it from here, please forward your evidence to the PRT."

He stepped towards me again, also avoiding the blood as he approached me slowly. Officer Grant just scowled and turned away, going over to direct the other normal police officers.

In a quieter voice Velocity continued, "You rethinking your independence? This will just keep on happening, they won't take no for an answer."

I gave him a thin-lipped smile, "And will the Protectorate accept a 'no'?"

Velocity stilled. A gesture that was really obvious since before his arms and legs had been almost blurring in nervous movements. He was back to normal before even a quarter of a second passed, but I had seen it.

"Of course," he replied, "The Protectorate will always allow you space and time to make any decision you need too."

I glanced down at tiger mask, I could hear his breathing began to quicken, unconsciousness evidentially wearing off. Velocity followed my gaze, his head twitching in a birdlike motion. There was a blur and he was over tiger mask with a yellow grenade in his hand. As his red gloved fingers depressed the button, I leaped backward, away from whatever was about to follow.

My pistol was already snapping upwards to point at Velocity but I stopped myself from pulling the trigger at the last moment. Mindful that he hadn't made a threatening move towards me, but instead towards tiger mask. That threatening move included a grenade which was really not thoughtful to use around allies, but he was a government agent and I still gave him some benefit of the doubt.

There was a snap-hiss, and Velocity blurred away. The grenade popped outwards into yellow foam, that quickly swallowed up tiger mask.

I refrained from shooting him as he blurred right back into the same spot he was in before. He blinked, looking at my new position, about two meters away from tiger mask, before frowning slightly and adopting a relaxed pose.

"What you just did," he gestured at Kreig and Victor, "Is going to really disrupt the whole power structure of the city. The Empire was already set to fracture with the death of Kaiser, this will just hasten it along. There is going to be a lot of infighting in the Empire for the foreseeable future."

"He threatened me," I replied evenly. I was selectively ignoring the fact that I probably could have managed to deescalate the situation if I really wanted too. I carefully didn't frown, as I considered that fact that it actually didn't even occur to me that I could at the time.

Velocity shook his head, "You don't know, do you? There is currently six cape groups in the city hunting you, all want to recruit you, and most of them probably would rather you be dead if you don't join them."


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

"Hunting?" I asked, speaking the word quietly, almost breathlessly. Intellectually, I knew that I should probably feel fear, maybe even dread. However, all I felt was the growing sense of anticipation. I knew hunting, I didn't know all this social stuff.

Sure, once upon a time I hadn't even thought of survival, the constant drive to keep moving. To test my strength and skills against professional killers. Perhaps I was addicted to my own adrenaline, or maybe the berries. Yeah, it was most likely the berries.

I had been hunted by both man and beast before. Not since the island had the prospect of men hunting me filled me with fear. I had similarly lost my fear of more traditional beasts that stalked the wild. I kept the pelt of one such beast in my satchel. One of the most dangerous predators in the world, besides humans, that was.

"Yes," Velocity continued, "The Fallen in particular see you as responsible for the death of their 'god'."

"A cult then?" I asked, my eyes snapping back to him from where they had drifted up to look at the rooftops.

"Yes?"

I fixed him with a glare, "I don't fear cults or cultists."

Velocity tried to explain, "The Fallen aren't like mundane-"

"I've killed hundreds of cultists before, they all die the same."

Velocity paused. He raised his hand and then dropped it. I gathered that he was just staring at me. Changing his mental model of me. Belatedly, I realized that admitting to killing hundreds of people was not a wise thing to do. Especially, without any context.

"They wanted to end the world," I elaborated. It didn't seem to help much.

I heard the wail of sirens approaching us, the cadence suggesting that it was an ambulance instead of a police car.

"You know, heroes are held to a high standard here," Velocity started slowly. His words were carefully chosen, unlike his previously almost flippant drawl.

"Are they?" I asked rhetorically. Finally, allowing myself to turn away from him. I reached down and wiped my bloody axe on tiger mask's heavy black shirt. It didn't help that much since his shirt was already covered in blood. Mostly his own, ah, that was bleeding.

I tore a strip off his shirt, the fabric wasn't wool, it was a synthetic so I required significantly more force than I was expecting. Velocity was at my side in an instant.

"What are you doing?" He asked harshly, trying to look at what my hands were doing.

"Making sure he doesn't die."

After a moment of trying to force the strip of cloth into a position where it could actually be helpful, Velocity pulled out actual sterile bandages and pushed me aside. His hands moved swiftly, blurring across tiger mask's chest. Another moment and the bandage was secured.

He stood up, looking down at where I was still crouched by tiger mask.

"Why didn't you tell me Stormtiger was bleeding out?"

I breathed out heavily, "I didn't-"

"I know, I know," Velocity spoke condescendingly, which immediately made me flashback to Dominguez, which was probably not what Velocity was going for, "If you were in the Protectorate you would have access to training for whatever weaknesses you have."

Left implied was the fact that Velocity thought I had weaknesses. Whether he was referring to moral or training wasn't clear. My earlier likening of Velocity to Dominguez made me immediately predisposed against what he was suggesting.

"No," I replied, letting one hand come to rest on my pistol, still crouching by tiger mask, Stormtiger.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," I replied, rising up to my feet until my head was level with his. I made sure to angle my body away from him, just as I did it against the Nazis. With luck, he wouldn't have the necessary training to realize I was preparing for a fight.

"You're trying to make me doubt myself, to panic as you present your organization as the only safe haven! It's exactly what these 'Nazis' were doing, albeit they were far less refined."

Velocity shook his head, "We're trying to help you! You have the Yangban, the Fallen, eventually even the Slaughterhouse or the Butcher! All of them are going to want you, either as part of your organization or as a broken insane husk of what you once were! Can't you see we're just trying to help?"

"I don't need your help! Or the help of the 'Protectorate'!" I lost my temper there, my fingers clenched tight into fists. I resisted the urge to shake a fist in his face as if I were a cartoon character.

The one thing I really hated, was being forced to make decisions, complicated decisions on the fly and when subject to obvious social manipulation. Don't get me wrong, some of my best decisions were made on the fly and the ability to act in the moment had saved my skin countless times. Tomb raiding and feats of agility notwithstanding, a social decision was a different beast.

"Velocity!" A woman's voice shouted, breaking me out of my growing irritation and bringing my attention to a woman clad in black body armor covered in blue lines. Velocity, scowling, looked at her for a long moment and then touched the side of his head, and whispered, "Understood."

"Hello Croft, my name is Battery, can we move a little bit down the street? Let the EMT's move Stormtiger and the rest?" She asked in a pleasant and more importantly controlled voice. Her pleasantness was quite obviously an act, the tightness around her exposed mouth, and the stiffness of her neck evidence for it being such.

I looked around, noting that there was now an ambulance, and two emergency responders loading Kreig onto a stretcher. Another two were hanging back, watching me worriedly. I nodded my acceptance and stepped down the street, away from all the people. I ducked under the yellow crime scene tape that had gone up either while I was experiencing my flashback or during my loud argument with Velocity.

"I'm not running to the Protectorate, especially not when I'm being hunted," I told Battery.

"I understand," She said, and something unreadable flickered across her face. She was almost...relieved.

"You have to understand though," She continued. Her blue visor angled towards my bloody hair. I brushed aside the faint tinges of annoyance that my hair brought me, it was going to be a pain to get all the blood out.

"In America, cape culture means that we don't kill other capes," she said. I bit back the reflexive response asking what a 'cape' was. I felt I was beginning to understand what it was, anyways. The way she referred to 'capes' was telling. She referred to them almost the same way you would refer to a minority or interest group. The only possible conclusion was that 'capes' was slang for a group. What group could possibly be called 'capes' except for the group that quite obviously wore capes on a regular basis? The superhumans.

Battery continued to speak, "We pulled the footage of your fight with Kreig and the Empire from the diner's outside camera and it'll be stuck in evidence for a long time. Nobody will know what you did here if you don't tell anyone."

That...was a complete three-sixty from Velocity.

"Why? If what you're saying is true then I'd be ostracized for what I did? What does the Protectorate benefit?"

"Contrary to what you might think," Battery smiled, a strained thing that really didn't help her case, "We're not trying to press-gang you into the Protectorate."

I narrowed my eyes, not responding. However, I did allow my white-knuckled grip on my axe to relax just a tad. I didn't really buy what she was saying. More likely whoever was listening in, or watching, my eyes flashed to Battery's visor, decided to change tactics, still hoping to ease me under their control.

"Now, we have significant information on who is targeting you, and what measures you need to take to protect yourself. We're willing to give you a full briefing back at the provincial PRT headquarters downtown."

I allowed myself to think for just a second. Foreknowledge of potential adversaries was always welcome. However, this invitation really just seemed like a way to get their hooks into me.

"No," I said finally, "Instead, I would appreciate it if you pointed me to the nearest library or internet cafe."

Battery gaped for a second, evidently taken aback by my refusal and possibly startled by my second request.

"The city library is flooded," She said after a moment, "All private libraries are closed, nothing of that sort is going to be open so soon after Leviathan."

I closed my eyes. I guess if I need information this is my only route.

"Fine," I bit out, "I'd appreciate that briefing."

Battery nodded and opened her mouth, probably to say something more but I cut her off, "Take me to Leviathan's carcass first. There's something I need to see there."


	15. Interlude 2

Interlude 2: Dennis "Danger Dynamite"

It wasn't fair, Clockblocker thought. Why did they have to die? Why was his own effort so successful, and furthermore so late? Why did Carlos get so close? Why did Sophia?

Why, why, why? Clockblocker sat at a circular table which the Wards used to joke was the round table. He remembered Chris and Missy joking with Carlos over who was Galahad and who was Lancelot. Usually, they gave Sophia that moniker, she was always annoyed. She probably would've been more annoyed if she actually had read anything about King Arthur.

It didn't matter now, though, Carlos was dead and so was Sophia. He had seen the final video, one of the visiting capes was streaming the fight from a little camera. The video was distorted but the sound was undamaged. He must've watched it a hundred times, replaying the moment where he was able to hear Sophia's agonized scream as she died.

He wished the Chief Director had seen reason. He was able to catch up to her and speak a few words. Why hadn't she seen that Hookwolf had obviously broken the truce? The few people he'd talked to, Assault and Miss Militia had tried to explain that friendly fire happens, especially in a fight.

He didn't buy it. Sophia was black and Hookwolf was a nazi, it was that simple. Maybe it was friendly fire, but he sure didn't think Hookwolf would make any effort to stop himself from killing Sophia. My god, her scream. Clockblocker's thoughts kept spiraling back to that moment, the grainy ghostly image of Sophia and the twisting blades of Hookwolf, the moment they impacted. The blood, the scream. He felt sick.

He felt Dean reach under the table and grab his arm, he looked up and spotted the concerned look that Dean was giving him. His blond eyebrows furrowed in trepidation. Clockblocker shook his head, not wanting to leave the room.

Speaking of such, the remaining Wards and the Protectorate were all gathered here for a singular purpose. Or most of them were, Battery, Assault, and Velocity were called away before the meeting even started for a developing incident.

Miss Militia was still out on patrol. The only Protectorate members attending were Armsmaster, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else and Triumph, who didn't look well at all.

Director Piggot was of course attending in her function as PRT Director East-North-East. Unlike usual, she wasn't shadowed by deputy director Renick. She was currently leafing through several documents scattered over the top of the table. Her expression was disapproving, and mixed with the general silence of the room, none of the Wards dared to say anything.

Armsmaster had a few documents of his own and was similarly frowning, running a hand through his immaculate goatee.

Piggot finally looked up, catching the attention of all the attending heroes.

"First off," she said, "Our city has survived Leviathan, and that is going to bring us a whole host of problems. I'm going to need every member of both the Protectorate and Wards to be as visible as possible. Now is precisely the wrong time to show any weakness."

"If we look weak, then the gangs will swell, the everyday citizens will begin to believe that we are incapable of protecting them and they will turn to other sources of security."

"Director, Ma'am," Dean said, "We lost a lot of people," even Dean's voice threatened to break there, "I don't know how much force projection we can do."

Piggot nodded, "I've arranged the transfer of two new wards-"

"You can't-" Missy choked out.

"Replacing them alre-" Clockblocker found himself saying before being cut off by Piggot.

"Quiet. We aren't replacing anybody," Piggot shot each of the Wards a glare in turn, lingering especially long on Browbeat for some reason, "Flechette of the New York Wards, and Weld of the Boston Wards will be staying in the city for several weeks. Weld will function as the new team captain. Despite my best efforts, their stay will not be permanent."

Despite her words saying that she wasn't replacing anybody, a dark angry part of Clockblocker whispered that she was probably happy to have a troublemaker like Sophia gone, and probably jumped at the chance to get the prim and proper Flechette as a replacement, even if it was temporary.

"At the moment, I've also secured the assistance of Dovetail, an independent hero operating in the area between here and Boston."

"Hmm," Armsmaster grunted under his breath, Piggot scowled.

"I meant, Dragon secured the assistance of Dovetail for us, she is inclined to join as a probationary member of the Protectorate, and Dragon is also making overtures to Sere, who you all know as an independent here in Brockton Bay."

Armsmaster nodded as Piggot finished speaking as if he already knew these things, and most likely he did, "This brings us to a more important question," he said, "The matter of the other independent in Brockton Bay."

"The Endslayer?" Triumph asked, still quite pale looking.

"Yes," A flash of some emotion that Clockblocker couldn't place passed over Armsmaster's face, but it was gone before he could decipher what it was. Whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant. Clockblocker kind of felt maybe he understood, she had come out of nowhere and figuratively spit in the faces of all the people that had died after she killed Leviathan. She showed no acknowledgment of the people who died, of his friends, of his city.

"She didn't have an armband, Dragon confirmed that she never showed up at the staging area. By all accounts the first recorded moment she appeared was right here," Armsmaster continued to speak while pulling up a video. A few frames showed Armsmaster in combat and then there was a flash of brown and Armsmaster's camera swung up as if he was turning his head and showed a woman clad in blue and gold. An ornate golden mask sat upon her brow, and she was holding a regular old wooden bow in her hands.

"A bow?" Dean asked, stupefied. Clockblocker shared his incredulity, why did she show up to an Endbringer fight with a bow of all things? That was like bringing a sewing pin to a nuclear war, or something.

"Indeed," Armsmaster seemed pleased, he was probably doubtful that Gallant would recognize a bow. Armsmaster was a douche like that sometimes.

"By all appearances," Armsmaster said, winding the video forward just fast enough that all at the table could spot the arrows bounce off Leviathan's impervious hide, "She used ordinary arrows and ordinary bullets from the 50. Caliber pistol by her side. These both had the ordinary effect against an Endbringer, which was practically insignificant."

Armsmaster paused the video abruptly and pressed a button on the remote the image disappearing. A new image of a stone knife with a shaped golden handle appeared on the screen. It was clutched in a white-knuckled grip and appeared to be rather low resolution.

"This weapon on the other hand," Armsmaster said, scowling, "Worked almost as well as my nano-thorn."

At everyone's blank looks and Piggot's raised brow, he elaborated, "My new anti-endbringer technology, it uses a cloud of nanites to cut molecular bonds, I figured that with the increasing density-"

"Yes, yes," Piggot cut him off, " As fascinating as your monologue has the capacity to be, let's get back to the point."

Armsmaster settled back in his chair and took a moment to adjust something on his silver prosthetic, a panel was loose.

"The blade appears to be made of mostly silicon dioxide with a handle of pure gold."

"Obsidian?" Chris said, he had remained quiet for the majority of the briefing, but evidently, this was enough to make him speak. The loss of his pride and joy, the Alternator Cannon, was a big blow, nearly as bad it seemed as losing two teammates. No, he was just being vindictive, Chris felt the same loss all the Wards did.

Armsmaster nodded, "But it can't be regular obsidian, obsidian has fracture points and the Endbringer are too durable, it would shatter. However, she cut through Leviathan's body as if Leviathan's body was ordinary flesh. It doesn't make sense."

"A striker power of some kind then," Piggot said, looking interested, after a moment she took over, "Our thinker's analysis of the various video's revealed some important details. Or rather what is more important is the lack of details they gathered."

"How so?" Triumph said.

"Most of the video's use was damaged by the fact that Leviathan is in them, and as you know, he throws-threw thinker's into incoherency whenever they tried to get a read. There are a few stand-alone video's of this 'Croft' so we were able to get something."

"How does that relate to the lack of details?" Chris asked, uncharacteristically still. Usually, his ADHD would've acted up by know and he would be fidgeting with something in a way that he thought was out of Piggot's sight. Fun fact, nothing was ever out of Piggot's sight.

"I'm getting to that," Piggot replied, "Her costume is Incan, with Mayan influence, and appears to be the real deal, that costume is over a hundred years old at minimum. The mask she wears is Mayan, and likely at least a thousand years old. We exchanged information with a few bastions of stability down south, they've never heard of her."

"So she's an unknown Tomb Raider?" Missy asked, looking interested, for who knows what reason.

"Likely. Fortunately for her with the fractured nature of South America, it's unlikely that she'll face any kind of official sanction. Furthermore, if she really has been hanging around in South America, their cape culture is quite different from ours. I know you've seen those overly simplified seminars where they equate America's situation with capes to cops and robbers. Let me tell you, it's not like that in South America."

Armsmaster picked up where Piggot left off, "South America is a very dangerous place, where might makes right, only the strongest or most cunning capes survive. If she really comes from there she most likely has a body count."

"That leads me to another point," Piggot continued, "Her medical records."

Clockblocker felt his attention sharpen, that couldn't be legal, could it?

"That's illegal!" Chris helpfully pointed out.

"Not for foreign citizens," Piggot smiled nastily. Clockblocker wasn't quite sure if it worked like that, but Piggy seemed to know what she was doing so he didn't protest. It was all for the greater good after all.

Piggot spread a few papers out, "By all indications she has been regularly brutalized, which has led some of our analysts to hypothesize that she might've been held in captivity for some time. Most likely she was a victim of human trafficking, abducted from England, which her accent suggests she was once a native."

"She had marks on her wrist, torso, and ankles that match being repeatedly restrained with rope or cloth, she had substantial burns across many different parts of her body and an absolutely horrific puncture wound."

"Horrific?" Missy asked, already quite horrified just from the beginning of Piggot's exposition. Belatedly, Clockblocker thought that it was probably a bad idea to let a squirt like Missy listen to all this. Human trafficking and all that.

"By our best estimation that was probably her trigger, otherwise we don't really see how she could've survived. She must've suffered acute internal trauma, and came quite close to literally pulping most of her organs. She didn't survive by just eating berries, that's for sure." Piggot snorted in amusement.

"Panacea also reported that she had an excessive, as in lethal, dose, of narcotics, hallucinogens, and other drugs in her system, enough to kill and regular person upwards of twenty times. So she must possess a healing factor of some kind, which allows her to survive the debilitating effects of drugs bust still use the beneficial."

Armsmaster interrupted then, "Dragon and my analysis of the fight also yielded the possibility that she has a very strong thinker power, most likely related to combat or possibly, as she told you, survival."

Piggot nodded, taking a moment to breathe in deeply and pinch the bridge of her nose, "That being said, there is going to be a lot of parties interested in her. A thinker in Vegas told the Chief-Director that our color for Brockton Bay was red, with little pieces of white. Not a pleasant image to be sure."

"If she went through the trauma that we suspect she did she will both be incredibly unstable, incredibly violent, and I advocate a complete hands-off policy for the near future. Only speak to her if she comes to you, that goes double for you, Wards."


	16. Interlude 3

Interlude 3: Eidolon

"She needs to die," Doctor Mother spoke. Number Man looked up from where he was leafing through the official PRT documents concerning the 'Endslayer', who was also known as 'Croft'.

"Why?" Rebecca asked, frowning. She was in a formal suit, still in her garb as Chief-Director. David knew that she had just come from a press conference about the very same hero, "She represents the greatest chance we have against Scion yet."

"She did kill Leviathan with an ordinary knife, archaic yes, but fundamentally ordinary," Number Man interjected, sounding bored. He pushed his glasses back and returned to being absorbed in his reading.

"I repeat," Rebecca said, sounding quite cross, "Why?"

"I cannot construct a path for her," Contessa finally said. Her Mediterranean complexion was flush, David didn't know whether it was embarrassment or another emotion. A power swelled forward, an emotion sense, he didn't let it take hold, it wasn't needed. Still, he felt offended on Croft's behalf.

"I'm a blind spot," he pointed out, staring at Contessa accusingly, "And you're not making plans to kill me? Are you?"

Even as he pointed it out he knew the situation was a little different. After all, he was the best chance against Scion, they couldn't afford to kill him. Yes, Croft got lucky or managed to trigger with a thinker power that worked against Leviathan, but Scion had a different kind of thinker shroud over him. Sure, she worked against Leviathan but that might've been an anomaly.

"She got lucky, nothing more," Doctor Mother said, "There's no way she can kill Behemoth, by all indications she's an ordinary human, his kill radius would incinerate her. She would also fail to kill the Simurgh, so she's functionally useless to us. Worse, she obscures Contessa's sight."

"I think what's more notable," Rebecca replied, piercing Doctor Mother with a glare, "Is that Contessa was feeding me information during the fight and she didn't become unpathable until after she killed Leviathan."

David cut in their, determined not to be a passive observer as they talked about killing her, "Didn't you feel the moment she killed Leviathan? I know I did."

Rebecca glanced at him, frowning, before shaking her head, "I didn't feel anything, but that's beside the point, she was pathable before, but now she isn't, there's a possibility we've talked about before, the prospect that the Endbringer powers work like the Butcher's."

"A disturbing hypothesis, if I recall," Number Man said, eating a bagel. David had no idea where he got a bagel, he was in plain sight for the last twenty minutes, and he sure didn't enter the room with a bagel.

"That…" Rebecca paused, "Might fit, and I stress the might part. We simply don't know enough, and even if that was the case it would be stupid to kill her, especially if it turns out she can control that power. Now that would be useful against Scion."

"How useful can water be?" Doctor Mother scoffed. David scowled, while he agreed that water was unlikely to be any help against Scion, at least Doctor Mother shouldn't be so blasé towards the millions that Leviathan killed with 'just water'.

"All that theory does is invalidate killing her," Rebecca finally said after a moment. Doctor Mother didn't note anything wrong, "Furthermore, you must admit that her 'chance' killing of Leviathan draws some disturbing parallels with Contessa and your, Doctor Mother's story on how you killed the first Entity. With a knife."

Doctor Mother blinked. David blinked then at her blink, she really hadn't considered that, had she?

"Regardless," Doctor Mother said, "Even if she has Path to Victory or a derivative then it would have to come from Scion, and we know that Scion wouldn't give out a power that was capable of harming him."

Rebecca pursed her lips, "You're also talking as if our ability to kill her is a foregone conclusion, especially when we actually don't even know her powers. If I might remind you. She went toe to toe with Leviathan for several minutes, almost a quarter of an hour in separate stints and that culminated with her killing him."

Doctor Mother in turn frowned, there was a lot of frowning going on today, "Even so, Eidolon should...or Contessa…"

"Contessa can't do it, Croft is unpathable, as we already established. Eidolon couldn't kill Leviathan, what makes you think he can kill Leviathan's killer?"

David felt like he should really speak up here, but ever since Leviathan was killed, the pressure had dropped. He didn't need to defend his position as the most powerful of the 'real' heroes anymore. Croft had shown him that you didn't need to have all these big and powerful powers in order to win against the enemy.

Instead, he frowned himself as a thought occurred to him, what about more subtle powers? They used less energy so they should last for longer, yes, he would have to be more careful but they might be more effective. A power bubbled up in his mind, it was a thinker power, he let it fill in. Slowly growing more powerful. It let him see weaknesses. He looked at Rebecca, his power indicated that he should choose Aerokinesis, and some kind of bodily self-control power to fight her.

He let the power diminish, that didn't seem like it would be much help against Rebecca, maybe the power was faulty?

"Well?" Doctor Mother said, looking straight at him.

"What?" He replied.

"Could you kill Croft?"

He paused, "I'm sure I could," he allowed slowly, "But I agree with Rebecca, I don't think it's wise. Better to adopt a wait and see approach."

Rebecca smiled at him, relieved, and he resisted the urge to smile back.

"Croft also didn't seem to have a blindspot related to the Endbringers," Rebecca pointed out as Doctor Mother leaned back in her seat, frowning, "There's no guarantee that Eidolon is a blind spot for her, if she has a version of Path to Victory, she may very well path a way to kill Eidolon. That would be worse in every way."

Yes, David agreed, that would be worse in every way.

"Fine then," Doctor Mother said, then grunted, "Do we at least know who she is? In her civilian life?"

"Hmm, I've traced a noble Croft family back to the 1700's in England, they weren't a lordly house however, they were only a knightly one," Number Man offered, "That's, of course, assuming that the name 'Croft' is her last name, or more importantly the name her family's nobility descends."

"That doesn't matter, we don't need to know her lineage," Doctor Mother said. Number Man pushed some papers from a genetics testing website under his other papers, trying to be discreet. It would make sense that Number Man would be interested in things like that.

"Where was she before she appeared in Brockton Bay?"

"South America?" Number Man said, "Based on the authentic costume? Excellent stitching, by the way, must've been made by a lifelong professional, shame it got ruined."

"We really need more assets down there," Doctor Mother said. David agreed, of course, he didn't say this out loud but if Doctor Mother and Contessa stopped messing around down there with all their little projects it wouldn't be nearly as bad. And they'd have more assets too.

"In essence," Rebecca took up the slack, "We don't have any idea where she was before, but by all indications, she triggered at least several years ago. The PRT puts her trigger sometime in 2006, about 5 years ago. About that time she either received parahuman healing and survived a crippling injury or she triggered. The complete lack of parahuman healers in South America makes me think she triggered."

"That's a long time to survive in South America," David noted, "Average cape life expectancy is down to less than a year."

"Correct," Rebecca said, "Also if she happened to make any enemies down there, there's a high chance they'll go to Brockton Bay to settle scores."

"All right," David said finally, "That makes no sense, why would people gravitate and try to settle scores with someone that killed an Endbringer?"

Everyone at the table looked at each other, except for Contessa who was muttering steps to something in her corner.

"I imagine that they want…" Rebecca started and then trailed off.

"All right, I agree, that doesn't make much sense," Rebecca said, "But what does make sense is the Fallen are going to go to Brockton Bay for sure, most likely the Slaughterhouse 9, and possibly even Heartbreaker."

"Heartbreaker? I don't think he'd be that stupid, he must now that flack he would take from stealing her," David replied. Rebecca's lip twitched, she didn't like that she had messed up. David was right, there was no way that Heartbreaker would strike such a high profile target, especially one that the whole world's attention was on. The world would have no choice but to respond, and it wouldn't be pretty for Heartbreaker. David almost wished Heartbreaker would, just so that he would die.

"Not the Yangban?" Number Man said, idly solving two Rubik's cubes at once.

"Unlikely, there's increasing diplomatic pressure from Washington towards Beijing, they'll be gone by tomorrow at the latest."

"That's actually a peripheral problem, anyways," Number Man said, "What's more important is what to do about Brockton Bay. Things can go two ways, it'll fall further into anarchy as capes with recruitment offers show up and get in fights with each other and the increased violence drives people away. Or the city will have to become a new beacon of hope in the East, the place where an Endbringer died."

David nodded, "Anarchy is more likely."

"Actually no," Doctor Mother said, "the city and Croft are going to be flooded with international support and attention, especially from Canada and Japan, after all, they were the countries hardest hit by Leviathan."

"Either way," Rebecca said, "Our little experiment with Coil won't be able to succeed, should I encourage him to restart elsewhere?"

"No," Number Man said, "I for one am still interested in how this plays out, even a failed experiment provides important data."

"Since it has been settled that we're not killing her," Rebecca continued, "What exactly should we do with her?"

"By all indications," Number Man gestured at the papers in front of him, "She would be an exceedingly poor choice for the Protectorate, here's a quote from a thinker I consulted, 'a pool of blood a mile wide, and demon masks, and they're laughing,'" Number Man turned a few pages as they digested that, "Here's another, I asked, 'Would she be a good addition to the Protectorate?' the answer, 'red'. They went into a fit, frothing at the mouth when I kindly asked for more info."

"Ah," Rebecca said, "Then what are we supposed to do with her? She's hyper-violent, hyper-aggressive," she turned over another paper, one of the few that were in front of her, "super-addicted to 'berries' what does that mean, is that slang? She has some kind of blood lust, at least that's what the other thinkers say, and she is suffering from post-traumatic stress."

"Why are the other thinkers able to get something from her?" David asked, actually curious. Why wouldn't Contessa work if other thinkers were able to?

"Most got the same results as Contessa, but the more abstract thinkers were still able to make readings," Rebecca replied.

"We could push her towards New Wave?" Number Man offered, rustling a few more papers.

"She'd be a poor fit there, she's too prone to violence, New Wave would kick her out if she did manage to join. If we weren't deliberately isolating her from people, PR would have no choice but to brand her a villian, have you seen the video of the Empire members who got aggressive with her? Two of them left in body bags," Rebecca said in reply.

"Maybe just label her hands-off?" Number Man said finally. David nodded, he could get behind that. Doctor Mother scowled but nodded her assent. Rebecca, Number Man, and Doctor Mother vanished shortly afterward through Doormaker's portal without further adieu. Leaving just Eidolon and Contessa.

David took a moment to sit back and think. It was liberating not to have to worry about the Endbringers all the time.


	17. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

Feather and scales. Shifting viridian green and crimson red creeping across a plane of blue. Heat and orange fire, shining down from above. The viridian green and red spiraled ever higher chasing the heat across the plane of blue.

The green and red was a serpent, so vast it shadowed the world. Kukulkan was hungry, and the sun always floated just out of reach. Kukulkan hunger was not a physical thing, a desire to consume and destroy the plasma and nuclear fire of the sun. No, instead Kukulkan hungered for another quality of the sun, Chak Chel, the power of creation. Kukulkan desired for the world to be remade.

Kukulkan stretched out his mouth and fell to the embrace of the Earth, Ixchel, far below. In his hurry and pride, he stretched too far and too quickly, and Chak Chel seared his tongue. It was not yet his time.

Ouch. I awoke to the sensation of burning in my mouth and the calming sensation of a rocking vehicle. The last vestiges of a strange dream slipped away from me like a jaguar slinking into the brush.

"We there yet?" I croaked. I really needed a drink of water.

"Just about," Battery said across from me. I was surprised that I had actually napped since my nerves were still incredibly high strung from this morning. I credited my fitful sleep in the ditch for my atrocious awareness. I didn't even trust the PRT and by extension the Protectorate at all. Especially after the excessively antagonistic nature of Velocity.

"Sleep well? You looked like you needed it," Battery continued, "Even if you got barely fifteen minutes."

"No," I said and didn't elaborate. I pushed my hand into my satchel, drawing forth a green berry. Battery watched me curiously as I ate it. Chewing it only slightly before swallowing.

"You have any water?" I asked, looking around the interior of the PRT transport. It was a design I was unfamiliar with but seemed somewhat inspired by a more civilian take on an Armored Personnel Carrier. There was space for eight full-grown rugby players to sit comfortably facing each other, and space for any gear that they needed. The APC wasn't filled with eight full-grown rugby players though, just Battery and I. We had lots of room.

I stretched out my legs, relieving some of the cramps that were building.

"Here," Battery stretched out a hand with a clear green plastic water bottle. I took it gratefully and raised it to my lips. I let the water spread over my tongue, mindful of other substances hidden in the water. I didn't taste anything untoward so I swallowed the water. It soothed my burning mouth, which was odd in itself, I didn't recall eating anything spicy. Maybe the food wasn't cooled enough and I hadn't noticed?

"Thanks," I said after my sip.

"It's good you awoke, we're just about to pull up to the checkpoint. I would've had to wake you," I got the sense Battery was smiling, and when I glanced back at her, the upturned corners of her lips confirmed that suspicion. I, myself, was glad that she hadn't tried, I usually didn't take well to sudden awakenings.

A knuckle rapped against the steel divider between the driver and the cabin, I heard a muffled voice speak out, "Reached checkpoint A."

Battery spoke then, "All right, we'll get out here and walk the rest of the way."

She reached back towards the heavy bulletproof steel door. She lifted the lever and pushed the door open as the vehicle we were in came to a stop. She almost gestured for me to go first, before she aborted the motion, correctly deducing that I wasn't really keen to exit first.

She stepped free, water splashing up from where her feet hit the pavement. I followed afterward, slipping down onto the pavement leaving the barest of ripples in the inch deep water.

We were surrounded by what I thought was a military checkpoint. The uniforms, BDUs, were not familiar to me. The depiction of the United States military I was familiar with wore the black, brown, and tan of a desert oriented force. The soldiers still wore the black, green, and brown popular before the War on Terror.

Of course, I wasn't actually an expert on the United States Armed Forces so my expectations were suspect. Surprisingly enough, my world travels never brought me into contact with the most proliferous military on the planet.

They were U.S. military for sure though, the little words, 'U.S. Army' above their breast pockets gave it away just as much as the M-16's in their hands.

"Name?" An officer asked, which I could tell by the pins on his lapel.

"Battery," The officer noted something down on a touchpad, it beeped twice and lit up green. He looked at me, "Lara Croft," I said. He frowned, looking at Battery.

"She's not clear to be here, she's not in the system."

"Don't worry, Lieutenant, Director Piggot just phoned ahead to give her temporary clearance," A new voice spoke, another uniformed man emerged from behind one of the temporary tan buildings arranged behind the checkpoint's fence. He was tall and had a severe face, despite that, the area around his eyes was crinkled with laugh lines. His hair was black, speckled with white, and his eyes were a pale blue.

The Lieutenant stepped away, still shooting me a suspicious look. I just raised my eyebrows at him. Being around all these weapons in the hands of potential enemies already put me on edge enough, I decided not to worry about how I appeared.

"I'm Major Buchanan," The new soldier put his hand forward, "I'm the temporary commander of this research center," he offered a rueful grin, "And your impromptu tour guide, as a courtesy to Director Piggot."

"I appreciate it," I said, a little more quickly than I intended.

Major Buchanan nodded sharply and gestured with his head down the row of temporary buildings, "Right this way then."

"You set up fast," Battery noted.

"That's right," Buchanan replied, his back to us as he led us deeper into the compound that had sprung up overnight. I spotted the huge shattered doors of the bunker that I slew Leviathan at and forced down my rising anticipation.

"The president ordered us in the moment he had confirmation that Leviathan was dead, the fact that Leviathan was slain on American soil will be a big boost to American interests."

Battery frowned, before replying, "That can't be all."

"You're right," Buchanan grinned, "We've had eggheads looking at Leviathan's body as soon as we secured the area about 15:00 yesterday. With any hope, they can find a weakness we can use on the other Endbringers."

Other Endbringers? I felt like I was sinking on dry land. Leviathan was only one of these things? My heart seemed to thrum, or really the empty place where my heart was thrummed. I was acutely aware of the fragment of the Key of Chak Chel in my satchel. I could almost hear it, the obsidian somehow ringing.

"-so I feel I must thank you on behalf of the United States," Buchanan finished saying something, looking at me expectantly. It was probably a thank you for killing Leviathan, based on the words I did manage to catch.

"You're welcome," I replied. I felt that wasn't quite sufficient since by all indications Leviathan has caused an enormous amount of damage and lives lost, so I added, "I just wish I had figured out how to strike at his weakness sooner."

"Yes, his weakness," Buchanan said, and I could almost see the grin on his face, even with his back to me, "I'm sure the eggheads would like to hear all about it. From what I understand it was a core or 'heart' of some kind?"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see it, "I could see that his heart was located at the base of his tail, and he seemed to try and avoid me after I hit it once so I kept on hitting it."

Buchanan didn't respond to that but instead gestured grandly, "Here he is, Leviathan, the deadest Endbringer you ever saw."

I stepped around him and looked at a literal sea of white and yellow hazmat suits. I couldn't even see Leviathan. I did spot lots of exotic looking machinery and various glowing lights and devices. I had no idea what some of them were beyond the really simple ones, like the guy waving around a barometer. After a moment there was a visible ripple as the researchers noticed us, after another moment someone separated from the crowd and approached us.

"Hi," A feminine voice spoke from a bulky yellow hazmat suit, "I'm Dr. Jennifer Jennings, I'm the assistant researcher to the research lead, Dr. Isaacs."

"Dr. Jennings," I said, speaking before either Battery or Buchanan could, "Is it safe to approach Leviathan?"

"It seems to be, but we aren't taking any chances."

"I see," I said succinctly, "Have you collected the shards of Chak Chel?"

"Chek what?" Buchanan said.

"The Key of Chak Chel, the blade I used to kill Leviathan, I was hoping to retrieve the fragments."

"Um, yes?" Dr. Jennings said, sounding a little unsure, "They were extracted yesterday and flown out to more dedicated research centers. It'll take a while to get them back...I understand you have the handle still?"

"I do, and before you ask it's mine," a little bit of heat entering my words. What right did they have to take what was mine? I forcefully restrained my irritation, I hadn't asked them to give me the pieces back before, and Dr. Jenning's was being helpful so I didn't need to be angry with her.

"Can I at least approach the body?" I asked finally, letting the awkward moment end.

"Of course," Dr. Jennings said. I half expected her to offer me a hazmat suit but she didn't. The other scientists parted like the red sea before me. Finally, I spotted the corpse of the beast, Leviathan.

Various new pits and scars covered his body, undoubtedly from samples they tried and mostly failed to take. The base of his tail trickled black ichor slowly and a thin stream of water. The water poured from the exact spot I dealt the final blow with Chak Chel. I reached into my satchel, drawing forth my remaining piece of the Key.

I hesitated for a moment, half-formed ideas springing to my head. I was half tempted to cut a swathe of his skin off, but something told me that it would be unnecessary trouble to deal with the military and the scientists.

I stepped away from the corpse, pocketing the Key again. I looked into the pool of water where the entrance to the bunker was.

"What's down there?" I asked.

Buchanan spoke from behind me, "A Fortress Construction Endbringer shelter, common across America."

He paused a moment before continuing, "However, the seismic readings we took per procedure don't match up, there's a whole system of tunnels and chambers, way more than the blueprints suggest. The whole thing's flooded, no way to check it out until we get some divers."

An underground mystery. Well, there was something. Not too different from my usual haunts. I started to smile as an urge filled me, the urge to explore and discover.

"I'll find out," I told Major Buchanan.

"Eh, what?" was his reply.

I strode forward, entering the water, taking a deep breath before diving under the still water. I ignored the sudden shouts, Battery's surprised exclamation, and somebody's screaming. I could always take care of the briefing later, I was curious about this now, so I'd explore it. It was even a civic service too since otherwise, they'd need to bring in divers to explore it.


	18. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: The Mausoleum of the Monster

Most untrained divers can only hold their breath for thirty seconds, and then the urge to gasp overcomes them. Others with slightly more training can extend that length to two to three minutes. With dedicated effort, time upwards of three minutes can be reached. The Guinness world record for longest breath was twenty-two minutes and some seconds.

I hadn't hyperventilated to build oxygen in my blood, so I'd be lucky to get maybe five. I was no stranger to swimming and more importantly a strong diver. Most people underestimate exactly how strong you need to be to dive deep. The pressure gets strong, very strong when you get past 4 meters. I regularly went much deeper, sometimes approaching the limit to the depths that were possible for the human body to survive.

The point being, I might've made a mistake. I had a ready source of knowledge regarding the inside structure and where any air pockets might be, but I decided to charge in half-cocked and without sufficient preparation. Even a few moments to breathe deeply would've extended my supply of air by maybe thirty seconds. Thirty seconds was an eternity when you were underwater. I was swiftly approaching forty meters down, which I could tell by the tightness around my lungs, and the black spots starting to dance in my vision. This was the kind of depth that few free-divers braved, save for long experienced pearl divers. The time I took to reach this depth was compounded by the fact that it wasn't a straight down dive.

Instead, it was diagonal, several levels of large rooms, each which had been jam-packed with people once. Most had apparently escaped or floated upwards. If the huge steel blast doors had not each reached all the way to the ceiling of the room then there would've been numerous ready-made air pockets when the place flooded. However, the way it was constructed once the doors were open, then the flooding would take up every available space.

Wait! I arrested my downwards swimming and swam towards my airy salvation. A ventilation duct located on the ceiling. With the way water pressure worked, it was probably an air pocket. My fingers curled around the tines of the duct's cover. I tugged with my hands, it didn't give, the black spots flickered across my vision. I slipped into survival instincts, the world was tinged in greyscale, which didn't make much of a difference since underwater things were pretty dull already. Part of the duct's cover blazed with yellow light under my voluntary hallucination.

I jammed my axe into the spot and twisted, the cover popped off and sunk to the floor below. I popped my head inside the duct and confirmed my hopes. It was an air pocket. I took a deep breath and immediately coughed. It was pretty dusty inside. I spent another few moments breathing in and out, cycling air through my body.

This jaunt had all the hallmarks of being a particularly dangerous dive. Momentarily I debated with myself whether attempting to climb up the vents was a good idea. On one hand, it was relatively dry, on the other hand, ducts aren't like in movies where there's completely composed of horizontal stretches. It was more likely that this duct, being located in a building with extensive depth, incorporated multiple long vertical passages.

These in themselves weren't an issue since I had my climbing axe, however, the bunker was also flooded, and I wouldn't know what was on the other side of the duct. I might puncture the duct's wall to climb down somewhere and die in the subsequent flooding.

No, the best course of action was to continue exploring the watery interior. I took my final breath and dived down, swimming deeper, I spotted a body far below on the floor of the room. Since I had a ready source of air I decided a little investigation wouldn't be remiss. With a few kicks I reached the body, it was a woman. She had evidently been trapped by accident, probably in the confusion to flee as the chambers flooded. Her leg was stuck between two heavy pieces of machinery. It looked like they were pumps. Maybe, I could free her leg?

Better than just leaving the body down here to rot and float up piecemeal. I examined the pumps. Here! It looked like one of the large pistons was jammed, I had no idea how the woman got in this position, and why nobody helped her. I leveraged my axe into the area with the piston, allowing me to crank it upwards. With a rush of bubbles the pump moved once, and then twice, and then stopped. The important part was the body of the woman which floated free, trailing brownish particles of mostly congealed blood. Her leg was lacerated, she was probably in a lot of pain during her final moments. I watched the body float up, bouncing against the ceiling once before floating past the door and out of the chambers I was in.

Each of the chamber floors had been littered with cheap folding chairs, emergency supplies, and various sundry items. Occasional pieces of luggage and backpacks. I spotted a lone plastic dinosaur, worn around the edges. Probably, a child's favorite plaything. Before continuing into the next chamber I picked it up, it was small and would be no issue placing in my satchel.

The next chamber was where I finally hit forty meters. The pressure was immense but I finally spotted something, maybe a passageway to the tunnels that Major Buchanan said surrounded the complex. This last chamber must've been set up as some kind of resource command, there were pallets of food, and hundreds of bottles of water, each of the pallets was tied down and secured to the floor. It was somewhat of a shame since these supplies would have been useful in the city above, suffering from extensive flooding as it was.

I spared a moment to dig my plain steel knife free from my satchel, cutting the straps securing the pallets to the ground, they floated up and caught on the ceiling, deciding not to continue their passage upwards. I would've snorted in amusement if I wasn't currently underwater, as it was, I just resolved to come back and push them free later, after I'd explored.

The way I believed was my route into the next part of the base was a pair of double doors, placed in the ceiling. They glowed a lovely shade of yellow under survival instincts, so I pushed upwards, with plenty of oxygen to spare. My axe found the seam of the door and with a strain, I pulled the door open, or rather I tried. The water pressure was too strong at this depth for the doors to go into the water, instead, I was forced to push the doors upward, into the room they were in.

I gasped a breath of fresh air, my second in the depths of the bunker a moment later. My suspicions were proven correct, this was probably part of the secondary system that the seismic scans revealed. I heard a deep thrum far away, a generator attempting to start. The area I was in was pitch black, all I had to see was my trusty waterproof electric torch. The beam of light flickered. Well, I had a trusty electric torch, hopefully, it would be good for a little bit more, until either I got the lights working or found another one somewhere.

I cast my gaze around, the new chamber I was in was quite small, barely the space to turn around. A rope ladder sat bundled in one corner, probably so whoever used this place could access it. There was a deep-set door to my left, the sides of its covered in yellow hazard tape. I slipped into survival instincts, scrutinizing the door. A small piece near the wall lit up yellow, with a crunch I slammed my axe into the spot, revealing that at that spot it wasn't metal, just cleverly disguised plastic.

There were several wires underneath but they proved unnecessary as the door beeped, and popped open with a pneumatic hiss. That either meant that parts of this tunnel system had power or that the door had a battery attached. I pulled the heavy door open. It swung closed behind me as I slipped past. I stopped it with an outreached hand, considering, there didn't seem like there were any convenient plastic panels on this side. I pulled the little plastic dinosaur out of my satchel and jammed the door with it.

Then I continued on into the interior. There was a series of long hallways, each with several doors on the side. I dug my axe into the door of one such door and forced it open. There was a simple cot inside, the rest of the room was rather spartan, toiletries and a change of clothes inside a little dresser. I spotted a communicator and snatched that up, who knows when that would be useful.

Exiting the room I looked up into the eyes of a camera. It was quiet, not even a little red indicator light shining down on me. Most cameras for competent systems didn't have red lights, however, so that didn't mean I was unwatched. This appeared to be a separate base of some kind, connected to the larger shelter.

Based on the fact that the military had no idea it was here, it was most likely unofficial. So, if it turned out this was just somebody's little hideaway then I suppose I could be charged with trespassing. Best find something incriminating then.

A moment later, turning down another hallway I found something curious. This hallway had only a single door. I approached it carefully since it was unlike the others. It was a little more sturdy, but still had weaknesses I could exploit.

I dug my axe into the doorjamb and tried to leverage the door open. It didn't give for a moment, but when I put my back into it, it groaned and something snapped inside. The door swung open. Inside was a small padded room. I stalked inside, taking it all in. Now this, was suspicious, who kept a private padded room? A small cot was in one corner, secured to the floor and made with only soft rounded edges. Somebody had painstakingly scratched at the material that covered the walls with a fingernail. It said, 'HELP ME'.

I tilted my head one way, and then the next. Yes, here was a mystery for sure. I looked at the room one more time, stopping to look under the bed before I left. There was a little scrap of paper wedged between the cot and the wall. I pulled it free, it tore slightly as I did so.

It had the words, 'HELP ME', again, written in a childish scrawl. Underneath it was the letters 'DA'. I carefully placed the scrap into a plastic baggie alongside my berries. Whoever this was, I resolved to try and find them.

My misgivings about maybe trespassing were over, there was something rotten in the state of Denmark. I left the room with more caution then I entered, now certain that there was something wrong with this place.

I continued my exploration, noting the increasing amount of cameras. Each was lifeless, and there were no lights except my own, not even emergency lights. I still heard the distant thrum of a large generator attempting to turn over. I noticed that the walls had markings now, there were the words, 'records', 'armory', 'operations center' and 'containment'.

Armory, that sounded fun. I was half tempted to head to records first since I'd probably get all the answers I needed there, but it was better to be armed first, especially if this place was still occupied by some people. I noted that the air was getting increasingly stale, probably because this place had been at least a day or two without any kind of airflow.

A score of burn marks stretched across a wall, I stopped and touched them with a hand, there wasn't any soot, so it wasn't a fire-based weapon. There was just a burn mark, something clinked as my foot touched it, it was a bullet shell, after a moment I noted more and more shells.

A splatter of blood, long and drawn out, dragging in the direction of the armory. Yeah, things were getting officially creepy. I spared a moment to take my River Hawk out, checking its ammunition. I had one round left in the clip. I spared a moment to reload it, keeping the flashlight trained down the bloody and shell encased hallway. I reloaded through memory, each bullet clicking into place quietly. I kept it gripped in my hand that wasn't holding the flashlight, it was too bad I lost my rifle, it had my flashlight attachment.

I took special care to not disturb the shell casings, my gut told me it would be a bad idea, and I hadn't got where I was by ignoring my gut sense. The door to the armory was actually broken, crushed, smashed open, splattered with blood. Well, I wasn't sure if I was dealing with something that was actually human anymore.

Inside was a stark difference to the outside, while there were copious shells and burn marks inside, there were only two shells inside, and a single 9mm Beretta pistol, covered in blood. There were two distinct bloodstains, but each body looked like it had been dragged through the door of the armory, into the hallway, and down the way, I hadn't come from.

I stepped over the bloodstains, I wasn't too keen to step on some unknown person's blood with my bare feet. Even though it shouldn't really have bothered me since I had crawled through rotting blood and bodies before. Still, it wasn't something I wanted to do again.

There was a collection of strange rifles, weird glass emitters atop massive battery packs all strapped to the bare steel frame in the facsimile of a gun. Neat. I picked one up carefully, noting that these were yellow words, saying, 'this side towards the enemy'. A useful function to be sure. I pointed the end indicated away from me, noting the location of the safety as I did so.

There were other pieces of weaponry, a lot of pistols, and a lot of these space-tech rifles. I spotted a grenade but it wasn't a model I was familiar with. After a moment's thought, I pocketed them anyways, leaving my satchel bulging. I carefully fastened the straps, it would be bad if something fell out at precisely the moment I needed to be quiet.

That done I stepped out of the armory, retracing the way I came carefully, the space rifle had an electric torch attachment, which I noted was helpfully labeled 'flashlight'. I moved back the way I came, being equally careful as before but a little easier now that I didn't have to focus on directing a beam of light as much.

After an increasingly tense moment, I reached the previous junction. Everything around me was deadly silent, only broken occasionally by the now distant thrum of the generator. It was as quiet as a Tomb. I glided forward towards 'records' my bare feet leaving no sound on the concrete floor. There was no way I wouldn't be silent, after all, I had won against a stalking jaguar, and there weren't many more impressive feats of stealth in the world.

I reached the records room, the markings on the wall leading to it were labeled a helpful green, this door was undisturbed, but not nearly as strong as the armory door. I allowed myself a moment to examine it under survival instincts. Ah, I see the weakness. I leaned down and grasped the bottom edge of the door with my fingers, curling them under the actual door. With a grunt, I heaved up, the door lifting free of its shallow hinges. The door fell inward and downward, slamming into the floor with a resounding boom.

Oops. I paused but I didn't hear anything, the place was still as silent as a tomb. I stepped into the room and sighed in frustration. Part of me had hoped for paper records, instead, there were towers of electronics, probably server towers packed with information. None of it was readily accessible to me since I didn't see any…

Wait, there was a screen. I padded forward silently, hitting the startup button on the computer tower near the monitor. There was no reaction from the computer and I felt like facepalming at myself. I looked around at the dark and silent server towers. The base didn't have any power, how was the computer supposed to work, you bloody idiot?

I looked at the room one more time, eyes narrowing as I spotted a USB drive sticking out of the computer tower. Reaching out, I yanked it free. How suspicious. There was no way there would be anything valuable on this, it was just too coincidental. Not too mention, having a place to put a USB right in your main server room was just plain idiotic, the potential for a security breach astronomical. I still pocketed the USB though, I'd still like to see what was on it.

I stepped back into the hallway and looked up at the wall. I had a choice here. I could either go to the operations center or containment. I paused, the decision was no contest, containment sounded way more interesting.

After a moment to make sure everything was secure on my person, I returned to the junction and headed down towards containment. The suspicious bloodstains, the shell casings and the presence of an area labeled 'containment' all hinted at something disturbing. I didn't need to watch horror or sci-fi movies to know that whatever was down this way was bad news, cranked up to eleven.

I paused, stilling my quiet barefoot padding as I heard a soft voice speaking. A woman's voice. She was muttering something, she sounded like she was young, maybe mid-twenties. My mind immediately flashed to the room and the childlike scrawl on the note. I was tempted to just continue forward but instead, I checked that my finger was near the safety and after a moment's thought, switched it to live fire. Yes, whatever was beyond sounded like a girl, but… I hadn't survived this long by being stupid.

"Krouse, Krooouuussse, I'm hungry," the girl whined, her voice echoing down the corridor. I couldn't see her yet, but there was something wrong sounding about her voice. I stepped forward, sparing a moment to note that all the bloodstains led towards the voice.

There was a crackle of a radio, "I know, I know, Noelle, we're trying to get to you! The area above is locked down by the military. Just sit tight. As soon as they leave we'll be down to get you."

"I'm so so hungry," The girl replied, groaning in pain.

I stepped enough that I could see where she was. I saw two things, the first was a massive shattered steel door. Beyond it was a tide of flesh and tissue. It was still, then it twitched with a sound like tearing muscle. I saw fragments of human forms, and animals. There was no skin on this flesh just bone, muscle, and tendons. There were the heads and bodies of pigs, cows, and smaller animals. Each moving as if they were, in turn, alive, looking around with clouded eyes. Fleshy tentacles of slimy flesh crawled across the ground, scraping at the walls and tongues along their length lapped at pools of blood across the room.

"SO HUNGRY!" The girl screamed, and my eyes were drawn upwards. There was the torso of a girl atop this abomination, a twisted waif of a girl. Her ribcage was sunken in and her cheeks were pitted, the skin stretched tightly across an emaciated visage. Spittle fell from her lips, one hand, with cracked and chewed nails clutched a small two-way radio.

I slowly made to retreat when I heard a sound. From deep in my satchel came a ringing. I stumbled backward, clutching for my satchel. The phone! The phone I picked up outside the bathroom back at the PRT! The girl swung her eyes toward me, eyes going wide with hunger. The various mouths opened, revealing hundreds of teeth and fleshy growths, cancers, and tumors. The girl screamed and all the mouths bellowed.


	19. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: The Ballad of the Doppelgänger

This was completely ludicrous. Not just my phone ringing in a concrete bunger a little under forty meters from the surface, but the whole situation in general. I'd experienced a lot of supernatural things, especially in the last two days, but never something quite like this. Wannabe gods and arguably demons and ever bona fide superhumans.

A colossal beast of flesh, bone, and gross tissue currently trying to snare me with her tentacles was new. What she was yelling wasn't so much. I'd heard remarkably similar before.

"Please, please. I'm so hungry! Come back!" The words were maybe what you would expect of a starving child. The tone, though, implied something completely different. Where a starving child would call out for you because they hoped you had food, the voice the emaciated waif used suggested you were the food. It was unpleasant.

I retreated backwards, as she lumbered towards, deceptively quickly, covering the space between us in great lurching bounds. I could hear the bones in her gargantuan legs snap under her own colossal weight and ligaments popping and the squelch of muscles shifting. Nausea made my stomach roil.

I fumbled, actually fumbled, trying to pull the trigger on the space gun I was holding. On my second try, my finger pulled the trigger.

There was a sharp crack, a blazing beam of light that lit up the darkness and then the monster, for what else could she be, screamed. High-pitched and painful, I pulled the trigger again as her advance slowed. I allowed survival instincts to guide my next shot, noting the tiny yellow pulsating organ in her head.

The space gun fired and the beam of light lanced forward, hitting her head. She screamed again, but her body continued to move forward, some of the tentacles already almost grasping at me, I stepped backward, firing again.

I noted that each blast was only really having a cosmetic effect, blackening the skin on her head. I did manage to divest her of one of her eyes, leaving a gooey melted mess running down her face. She clutched the remains of her eye in her hands and scraped it into her own mouth, groaning. In ecstasy or pain, I couldn't tell. Which was disturbing all by itself.

Eeewww. I fired again backing into the little hallway I had first emerged from. With her size, I found it doubtful that she would be able to reach me once I managed to get inside. However, I was partially loathe to let such a monster dwell beneath a highly populated city, especially a monster that seemed keen to feed on humans. If her fixation with me was any indication.

A force impacted my back almost sending me stumbling forward. I half-turned one hand still clutching my space rifle the other raised instinctively in a warding gesture. A man stood before me, but his proportions were wrong, one leg grotesquely extended and one side of his face looked almost melted. He was also stark naked, which revealed something else that was deformed. He grappled for my face, unnaturally short fingers scraping at my skin.

I dropped the rifle, using my already free hand to elbow him in the face before following with a solid uppercut to the stomach. He groaned in pain, but shoved me forward, where I knew the grasping tentacles of the monster waited. He was bigger and heavier than I was, the mishapeness actually only adding more mass to what was already a large man. I sidestepped, avoiding his lunge. Consequently, he misjudged and stumbled past me. I unhooked my axe and brought it down on his back, the sharpened tip cutting through muscle and nerves, sending up a small spray of blood.

With a gurgling scream, the abomination of a man collapsed, his spine severed. I had no time to relax as another two deformed monstrosities turned the corner of the hallway I had been intending to retreat into, one of them holding a space gun of his own. Both looked remarkably similar to the one I had just paralyzed, just with completely unique deformities of their own.

One had a hunchback, and a massive overbite, which made him look truly monstrous when combined with the unnaturally long fingers. The other, the one with the space gun was dwarfish in proportion, small limbs, and an unnaturally undulating torso. Both were also completely naked. I reached for my Rive Hawk, yeah no way was I going to engage in close quarters combat with these things willingly.

They both gave inarticulate screams and charged me, the one with the gun pulling the trigger of his gun as he did so. I bit back a scream as my shoulder suddenly erupted in burning pain. I fought through the burning pain through sheer force of will, raising my pistol and nailing the man with the space gun right in the throat. He stumbled to his knees, hands grasping at his throat. The other was almost upon me, but another bullet from my gun smashed into his chest, staggering him for just long enough that I stabilized my aim and put a bullet between his eyes.

Suddenly, something grabbed my foot with incredible strength and jerked my foot backwards, throwing my head and chest forwards. My gun went off as it hit the floor and spiraled across the concrete floor to hit against the wall. Taken off guard, I had no chance to arrest my fall and my nose and head smashed into the concrete.

I turned over, kicking out at whatever grasped my leg, even as my nose bloodied from the impact. It was the same man I had dispatched with my axe, he was paraliyzed from the torso down but still had his arms which he had just used for deadly effect. My kick didn't have nearly enough traction, and was unable to shake his grip. I kicked again, watching with horror as a tentacle sailed across the intervening space of the hallway and grasped the man's free arm.

It gave an almighty tug, pulled us both towards the flesh monster. I pulled myself forward, my axe sailing through the air and into his unblinking gaze, punching through his skull but the damage was done. The same grasping tentacle untwined from around his arm in a snake like motion and grabbed at me, sliding around my forearm, pinning both my hand and my axe.

It pulled me forward, I heard the sound of squelching flesh and the monster's hideous animalistic bodies filling all the available space at the end of the hallway. No, no, no.

My knife! With my free hand, I grasped for my satchel, sending the offending phone from earlier skidding across the floor. My spare ammo went flying, a cascading rain of brass. Where was it? My fingers brushed steel, I pulled. Thankfully it was my knife and not that stupid ascender. In one powerful motion, I slashed the blade downwards, cutting through the grasping tentacle.

"No," The monster screamed, "I'm hungry!"

"Not for me, you're not!" I replied, scooting away. I looked down at my hand, wiping away the blood from my face as I did so, it was purpling and bruised heavily, those tentacles were deceptively strong.

I paused for just a moment to grab my River Hawk, before retreating into the blackened gloom of the rest of the base. All right, Lara, I thought, what do you know? There was a colossal flesh beast that wanted to eat me. There was deformed copies of one person that were helping her or at least not trying to hinder her. This was complicated. The space gun I had used was ineffective against her, and I didn't know if my pistol or bow would have similar effects. I had also lost some things from my satchel.

I stopped a ways down the main hallway, to treat my wound. My shoulder was aching something fierce. I turned on my torch, angling my head to see my shoulder, the synthetic fabric of my grey top was melted into my skin. I thought about scraping it free with my knife but that would cause bleeding which was arguably worse. I pulled free a red berry, swallowing it without chewing. I spared a few moments to breath as the pain slowly lessened.

The bellows and screams of the monster continued, echoing down the hallways and making the darkness seem more dangerous. I craned my ears, mindful that other things, like those misshapen copies, might be lurking around somewhere.

That's what saved my life, I heard the quiet pitter-pat of a hunter's tread, and the click of a fingernail against metal. I activated survival instincts diving forward as a dull crack and a beam of light seared itself into my retinas.

"Lara, Lara," My own voice said, "Couldn't you just have the dignity to die?"

As whatever it was approached I stumbled down the hallway away from the thing, blinking spots from my vision.

I let survival instincts fill me as fast as I could pull it forth, the movement disrupted my concentration, but it did allow me to dodge the shots from the space rifle. I spotted the entrance to the record room and dove into it. One last shot singing my hair as I did so. There are few things more unpleasant smelling than burnt hair, the only things worse are burning human flesh and rotting bodies.

Now that I had a moment to breath I pulled my pistol free and lined it up to point at the doorway, chest height, I didn't need to try any fancy head shots.

"Lara, Lara" The voice spoke again, almost sing-songing the words, "It was your fault that Daddy dearest died. If you had just been there, he wouldn't have died…"

I stiffened, fury coursing through me. Who was this? What she was saying wasn't even true, Trinity killed him, and if I had been there in that room they would've probably killed me too.

"Oh, I know you Lara, right now you're thinking that I'm just trying to get to you, get into your head. But deep down you suspect I'm right, Dad died because of you, if you hadn't climbed the manor, if…"

A woman stepped into the doorway, and despite myself, I didn't fire. I was stunned, for she was me, albeit a nude version of myself. She had my hair, my eyes, my face, but everything was more beautiful, and better endowed. She was also physically larger than I was, corded muscles covering her body, almost making her musculature grotesque.

Her brown eyes gleamed, "There you are, sprout."

I fired. The pistol bucked in my hand, falling free from my too slack grip. The round hit my doppelgänger, slamming into her stomach, my aim having dropped in my shock. She stumbled and grunted, dropping her own weapon as red blood started to weep from her injury.

She snarled, the expression animalistic. I noted she had elongated, almost feline like teeth, each one sharp and gleaming. She flitted forward, and I missed my reflexive strike, even with survival instincts. Her fist slammed into my solar plexus, throwing me into the wall.

"You know, when you tried to take Unaratu's place," She said, not seeming that bothered by the 50. Cal gunshot to her gut, "You never stopped to consider-"

Ignoring the urge to gasp and breathe air into my screaming chest I shoulderchecked her, before trying to go for my axe, which is what I should've gone for from the very beginning. She was set off balance but swung around catching onto my shoulder, she sunk her nails into my burned shoulders.

My hand spasmed and my axe fell to the floor, she stomped on my foot with a heavy heel. I felt something snap. I screamed, a ragged pain filled screech. She threw me back into the wall, still grinning sadistically.

"Who are you?" I gasped out, head swimming from the impact.

"Dear Lara, dear Lara, I'm you. Without all your little inhibitions, without your morals. I'm you, but better," she smiled, "I think I'll call myself...Trinity."

I saw red. I lurched to my feet, my sight clouded with rage, I slipped into survival instincts, seeing her heart beating within her chest, it was misshapen, a twisted organ to fit a twisted creature.

"Trinity!" I screamed, lunging towards her, my arm almost in the shape of a claw. She batted it aside preternaturally quickly, my foot came up, my nails hitting her right in her fanny. She let out a sharp hiss of pain and jumped backwards. My hand flew to my knife, scattering more of my satchel's belongings across the room. I spotted the dark shape of the Key ping off a server tower.

"Yes, Trinity," she hissed, this time with a faint current of anger, "Don't tell me you actually thought you succeeded, taking the place of a woman who trained from birth to resist temptation?"

"What?" I bit out, circling her warily, not willing to break eye contact with her.

"You really think the world wasn't remade? Than what do you call what you're living in? You didn't just kill the people in San Paulo, you killed _everyone_."

"No," I protested, horror bleeding into my voice.

"Yes, yes," She crowed, delight colouring her tone. I could see the white's of eyes, the maniacal stare.

"No," I repeated, "That's not possible."

"Isn't it?" She repeated languidly, edging to the right, her eyes shot to my knife and then to the pistol on the floor across the room, "You never heard of superheroes and Leviathan's before, did you? No, the simple answer is, you failed, gave into temptation, tried to remake the world, but you failed there too, couldn't even remake it right. Instead, you made it into a fresh hell. And you know the best part? Your darling, Samantha, is dead!"

I screamed and charged her, refusing to even consider the words that she was throwing at me. They were all fears I had buried deep into my psyche when I realized that this world didn't resemble anything I used to know. She dodged the wild knife strike, the second back hand strike caught her left breast, stabbing into it with a spurt of blood. She stepped into the strike, knocking my hand from my blade, and forcing me backward.

I slipped on the slick blood covered ground and she followed me down. Pinning me to the floor beneath her weight. One of my fists smashed into her jaw, she grunted as her fingers closed around my throat. I went for her eyes, my fingernails carving bleeding furrows into her perfect face.

She reared back and I took that perfect moment to knee her in the back, pushing her forward. She went over my head, guided by other leg which kicked upwards into her stomach, sending her flying into a server tower.

I scrambled for my knife, hands sliding over the slick blood covered handle. Bam, a sharp pain erupted in my leg. I twisted, arching my back and looked over my shoulder. My doppelgänger had my axe and had just slammed it into the meaty part of my thigh, pulling me towards her.

"If you want my eyes, so bad," she snarled, "Let's exchange them!"

While one hand pulled me towards her, sending barbs of red hot pain up my body she struck out with her other hand, the nails biting into the side of my face. One moment there was only the pain in my leg and then there was pain from my eye. I felt her finger scrape the back of my eye-socket and then a tug and her hand was free. My sight was dark in the eye she struck.

I gaped with terror, still gasping in agonizing pain, as I caught sight of what was in her hand, "An eye for an attempted eye, hmm? I'm you, without morals, don't you remember, with all those drives you suppress."

She dug the axe into the flesh of my leg, pushing it in and making sawing motions, the pain was almost enough to make me black out. I hung on by a thread, spotting something I thought she missed.

"The drives you suppress, dear sister? Why, I'm glad you asked, sociopathy, sadism, greed, selfishness, you'd have these too Lara, if only you applied yourself."

She pulled me closer. My grasping hand finally found its target, it sliced into my hand but that pain was minor compared to the pain in my leg.

"Now what about the other eye?" She asked, a sadistic light shining behind her maniac eyes. I swung upwards, survival instinct flaring to life to guide my strike. The fragment of the Key of Chak Chel slipped between her groping arms, entered right above her belly button, and I pushed up, carving a bloody furrow through her chest.

She gave an agonized scream, flinging herself backward off me, but it was too late for her, she was opened from belly button to throat. She slammed back into the ground, a pitiful whine filling the air, she twitched once, twice, and as the blood pooled below her, she stilled.

Her eyes, glazed over in death, stared at me accusingly. Almost as if she was saying, why? I let out a sharp breath, before pulling at my axe, easing it free from my flesh as I dragged myself over to my satchel and its scattered contents. One of my hands was pressed against my pulsing blood, as I pulled a bandage free, affixing it to my leg with my other hand. A moment of fumbling later I pulled the bandage tight and dug through my satchel for something else.

A red berry and a green. It was difficult to find through the haze of blood and tears in my vision. I swallowed both when I managed to find them, letting the ache in my leg and eye socket fade to a distant pain.

I struggled to my feet, feeling the dry blood stick to my hospital scrubs, I tore off the pant legs, one was ruined anyways, the other was slick with her, Trinity's, blood. Trinity, I absolutely loathe that name, hated it with the fire of all nine levels of the inferno.

I considered her. She was quite obviously me and coupled with the presence of the misshapen abominations earlier I had an inkling of an idea what was going on. Somehow the tentacled flesh colossus quite duplicate people. Science fiction or horror cliche as it was, she could apparently make evil clones. Or maybe just some of the clones turned out evil, she could just eat the nice ones?

Struggling to my feet I knew what I needed to do. I needed to kill her, if she escaped into the world above she could cause a horrendous amount of destruction, and I needed to stop that. I bent over to grab my pistol, almost missing it due to my newfound lack of depth perception. I took a moment after to bandage up my eye, since it was still leaking blood down my face. I stuffed the socket with cloth, and tied a long strand around my head to keep it from falling out. It was unfortunate but there was no way these were sterile.

I stumbled out of the records room, back into the hallway, there was new burn marks along the walls and floor, in the spots where my doppelgänger's shots missed. I spared one last look at her still and silent body before turning away and making my way back towards the monster.


	20. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

The intelligent choice would've been to return to the surface, get help from either the superheroes or the U.S. Military. I couldn't do that. For one, I didn't think I could actually make it to the surface, there was no way I could swim all the way through saltwater with such gaping wounds. It would be agony. Plus my leg was busted, I would only be able to kick with one leg, there's no way I could ascend forty meters before my breath ran out.

I was tempted to stick red and green berries in my eye, just to see if it would heal. That was kind of stupid though, even if the idea was oddly attracting. Anything to deal with the pain might be worth it. My hand actually twitched towards my satchel mostly involuntarily before I got control of myself.

My encounter with my evil clone had left me much worse for wear. I was down one eye, my shoulder was horrifically burned, and the stab wound from my axe went all the way through my thigh, it sent lances of red hot pain up my leg and all the way to my lower back whenever I stepped. My toes hurt as well on that leg, most likely broken, it made walking excruciating. I suppose I was lucky that my doppelgänger hadn't hit the femoral artery in my leg, otherwise I would be dead by now. As it was, dark red blood leaked slowly out from under my bandage and ran down my leg. Falling to the ground with a little splatter, like the sound of a single raindrop, magnified by the concrete around me.

I didn't see or hear the monster as I approached the hallway end, which was both a good and a bad thing. The good was that if the monster wasn't there at the moment, then I wouldn't have to deal with it yet. The bad news, however, was that I didn't know where it went. It might've found its way into the tunnels somehow, or was already preparing an ambush somewhere else. Even more possible was the fact that it might've heard me coming.

My stealth was nowhere near as good as when I first approached it. I fished out the phone, not bothering to read the missed call or even open it up. I just held the power button until it powered down, I thought I turned it off before but I couldn't remember. The little gasps of pain I couldn't help but make with each step sounded like thunder to my ears, there was a larger than I liked chance that it had heard me coming.

However, everything was quiet. I edged into the open of the hallway, casting the light of my electric torch over the room. It passed over a mostly empty room, the only sign of life was a still body, a woman's body, lying against one of the walls. The dead bodies I had dispatched earlier were gone, and I didn't quite want to entertain what exactly happened to them.

There was a large hole smashed into the ceiling of the room, and above it, in the room above I could see a flickering red emergency light. Dimly, I heard a boom, a concrete wall falling distantly. The rubble had collapsed in such a way that I could easily climb to the next level, which I was thankful for, not sure how much rappelling I could do in my present state. I popped another red berry, letting its painkiller properties chase away the edge of the encroaching pain. I approached the sole body, mindful of any sudden movements.

The body was face down, and water was pooled around her as if somebody had dumped a bucket on top of her. This comparison was made apter by the water beaded across her naked form. She had pale, almost translucent skin with brown hair and a lithely muscled body. Her back rose and fell as she inhaled and exhaled slowly. I was surprised that she hadn't drowned, she lay in a recess on the floor, which allowed the water to pool in the first place to a depth of about three inches.

I stepped forward, more dragging than stepping on my injured leg and approached cautiously, my River Hawk angled towards what appeared to be an unconscious body. On closer inspection, the light from my torch passed through her skin, revealing that it was closer to far closer to translucence than white. I could actually see organs under her skin, pulsing and moving. I paused when I was almost on top of her.

What. I shined my torch directly down on her back, she had no heart. I could see the rest of the organs, lungs, liver, intestines, but looking straight down through the back of her ribcage it was obvious she had no heart. Yet her body seemed to be alive, a gaping hole in the center of her chest, yet her skin was unmarked. The huge arteries inside were torn, instead of cut, as if someone had pulled the heart free, not as if she never had one, and not as if it was surgically removed.

My mind flashed back to what Panacea had told me about my own heart, I was suddenly filled with a dreadful suspicion. I slowly grabbed the shoulder of the body and pulled her over, recoiling as I got a look at her. It was another clone of me, this one more closely matching me if you disregarding the translucent skin.

"I want to die," my own voice whispered up at me, clouded brown eyes staring mournfully up at me. Water ran out of her mouth, and her head lolled, out of her control, it landed in the water with a splash.

"Kill me, Lara," she said, she looked almost like a corpse, or a horror movie apparition of a drowning victim, the water continued to dribble out of her mouth. She coughed a slow, wet sound.

"No," I said, looking down at the soaking wet copy of myself, "I'm not going to kill you."

After a second of hesitation, I holstered my River Hawk, before reaching out and grabbing one of her arms with my free hand. I pulled her out of the pooling water, she left streaks of water on the ground, as if she was leaking water out of her skin, and I propped her against the wall. She sagged bonelessly against it, an expression of pure depression across her face.

"Why," I choked a little despite myself, "Do you want to die?"

"I see it," She said, and started to weep, sobbing, "All the tears of the world."

O-okay. I paused, before pulling my jaguar shift from my satchel and awkwardly wrapping it around her. I guess the monster didn't make only evil clones, there was no way someone so depressed could be evil.

"Stay here," I instructed, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

She nodded, still crying, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. The water continued to pool around her, leaking out from who knows where.

I pulled away, hesitating, this was a little more than I could deal with. I stepped away and turned my back, heading upwards towards the next level. It was an excruciating experience to climb, especially with the sound of faint weeping in my own voice ruining my focus. You wouldn't believe how unnerving that is until you're experienced it. Nevertheless, after a painful thirty seconds, I reached the next level. The hallways were much larger, and the thrum of the generator was much closer. I popped another pain berry, belatedly realizing my supply was greatly diminished. I must've lost some in the fight with my evil copy.

After a moment, just standing, listening for anything I heard a distant sound. Stone grinding on bone, the ceiling shuddered, the red emergency light flickered, and a spattering of dust fell from the ceiling. A long crack slowly starting on one wall. I stepped down into the direction that the sounds came from. My torch panned over the floor and I realized that I could probably just use the smell of rot that emanated from a clear slime trail on the ground to track the monster.

I stalked forward as easily as I was able, still careful to put the minimum weight on my leg. Intermittently, the red emergency light flickered but the sound of the once distant generator grew closer. The hallway wasn't straight at all, but zig-zagged regularly, probably for the express purpose of not having a long straight tunnel for attackers to shoot down when assaulting. This way ambushes could be set up at the defender's leisure. Naturally, as soon as I considered this, I stumbled into an ambush.

In the glaring light of my flashlight, I turned a corner to see six of the misshapen men, all black-haired but with obvious deformities. Three had space guns, and the other three were real monsters. Spurs of bone and bulging limbs.

My pistol snapped up, and I managed two shots before they reacted. One of the space-gun wielders fell backward, a clean shot taking him right through the heart, the other shot just grazed the head of one of the gunless ones. Evidently, my depth perception was slightly affected, even at this close range.

"Must protect mother," One growled as they all turned towards me. I slipped back around the corner I had just passed and wished I didn't have to carry my torch with one hand, because then I could have two hands to hold weapons.

The first of the evil copies got a bullet to the head, the second and third followed suit, the fifth and sixth were obscured for a brief moment by the collapsing bodies of their fellows and managed to close the distance. I slipped into survival instincts, dodging a wild attempt to grapple, my pistol slamming into his solar plexus and following his chest up until it slammed into his chin. As he stumbled backward, I leveled the gun and pulled the trigger, putting a shining bullet through his chest and then through his head for good measure. The 50. Caliber round fairly obliterated his body, just as it did to all the other clones, except for my own clone earlier.

The last copy had a space gun but held his fire a moment too long, trying to get a good shot at my moving form. I closed the distance towards him, moving under his line of fire, as he tried to line up again I shot him in the groin and then the stomach. My leg screamed with pain but I lashed out and kicked him back into the wall. Dark eyes, full of pain, stared at me accusingly as he tried to bring his space gun to bear. The blood loss was too immense and his eyes rapidly clouded over with death.

I just leaned against the wall, gasping a little, thankfully the close range meant that my shots weren't that screwed by my missing eye. Instead, only that second shot had missed, I credited the rest for succeeding due to muscle memory more than aiming.

The pain was more intense now, and I could tell that last decision to kick the clone with my injured was a poorly thought one. It hurt even more now, and the blood flow had increased. Hissing in pain, I tightened the bandage a little, hoping to stop the bleeding, it didn't help as much as I hoped. I contemplated taking one of the space guns, but it didn't seem to help much earlier so I let them lie.

After a moment to steel myself, I continued on, now reduced to leaning against the wall to keep myself upright, little starbursts of white light going off in my vision due to the pain every time I took a step. Slowly but surely I approached the sound of crashing concrete and the sound of several tons of flesh and muscle moving. I paused just before the last corner, taking a moment to slip a red berry from my satchel.

I raised it to my lips, just as the berry passed my mouth, I heard the rustle of wind, and even as I turned, I was slammed bodily against the wall. I heard a surprisingly familiar voice, which really shouldn't be surprising since I had encountered it twice down here, three times if you counted my own voice too.

"I knew you'd follow us," Another evil clone of me snarled, pressing my face into the concrete wall, from the initial impact I felt my cheekbone shatter, and I suppose I was lucky that she hadn't shattered my skull. Still the agony was yet again risen, and I could barely think through the pain.

"Always have to be a hero, don't you? It always has to be you, doesn't it? Always making everything worse!" My voice, or rather my clone snarled, I felt her groping for one of my arrows. I bucked backward, elbow lashing backwards into her face. I felt her nose break.

She stumbled backward and I turned around, for all that she looked like me, her fingers were too long, and the legs almost digitigrade. She was better endowed, however, which caused me to think, half delirious from the pain, why do all my evil clones have better breasts?

"Don't worry," She said, stepping back lithely, wild brown eyes set in a maniac face, "When I kill you, it'll bring rightness to the world, right all your wrongs."

I snarled, I had managed to keep hold of my gun, so I raised it towards her, slipping into survival instincts, I could see her heart beating like a hummingbird in front of me. I fired, she, however, had tracked the movement of the barrel and all it left was a bloody furrow down the side of her ribs.

She leapt for me, one hand grabbing at my pistol the other snatching at my face. One of her misshapen legs came up and slammed into my gut, staggering me. I lost my grip on my pistol and it fell to the ground with a clatter. Dimly I heard a bellow from down the hall, great, now the monster knows I'm here.

"Stop," I gasped, trying to reason with the clone. She was bigger and stronger and less damaged then I was.

"Why, Lara? You're a monster! Do you know how many people you've killed? People with families, people with wives and children!"

My head swam at her accusation, she approached me again, batting aside my feeble attempts to keep her off me, I swung my axe at her, she caught it in one hand and tugged. There was no way I was letting that go, I pulled at it, even as my free hand groped for my knife. I didn't go for the Key, it was harder to find in my satchel.

She pulled again, my bloody fingers slipped and the axe went flying through the air, hitting the wall with a clatter. At least she didn't have it either. She shoulder checked me, slamming me into the wall again, I managed to think, that was going to leave a nasty bruise.

"In fact, the moral thing to do to a murderer is to kill her," My clone smiled, revealing crooked teeth. I don't know why I fixated on that, but I did. She pushed forward, even as my hand dug in my satchel for my knife, next time I was keeping it on my waist bandolier, where I could grab it easily. She grabbed my face, my free hand flew up to meet hers. Her thumb found my injured eye socket and pressed down into it.

I screamed. A loud and shrill sound. I could barely think through the pain, after a long moment she pulled her hand back, I could barely breathe through the agony.

"You don't need this," through my good eye I saw her pick my knife off the ground. No wonder I couldn't find it, it was on the ground. I grasped at her, fumbling, trying to stop her. She leveraged me to the ground, hand going for my arm. What was she doing?

I felt pressure and sharp growing pain in my wrist. I started to scream, pushing and pulling against her through a haze of pain. There was a crunch and I was free, I rolled away, both my leg and arm screaming in agony. Blearily I looked down at my hands, or should I say my one hand. I could barely move from the pain as she dragged me back towards her, a cruel smirk on her eerily familiar lips. It was almost surreal to see my own face looking down at me with such bloodlust.

She raised the knife over my chest, and I was reminded of my previous encounter with my clone. How I managed at the last second to kill the clone called Trinity before she took my other eye. There was no convenient fragment to grab, the Key was in my satchel if it hadn't fallen free, but I had no time.

The knife descended, easily avoiding my warding stump arm and slipped between my ribs.

There was a flash, for a moment, a long agonizing moment, feathers and reptilian scales flashed across my vision.

I felt a familiar weight under my good hand. I struck upwards with the Key of Chak Chel, the obsidian fragment easily slicing through flesh and bone. My clone's hand, the one that had been holding the knife went flying.

She collapsed back, clutching at her hand, I pushed myself up, striking again, hitting her face. She shrieked as the knife entered her cheek, I drew it across her face, slicing into both her eyes. Her hands flew to her face, my hand grasped her shoulder and forced her naked body down onto the ground. My hands seemed to follow some instinct, the Key gently sliding just under her ribs as she gasped in pain, I dropped the Key then.

My hand slid through tissue and flesh, even as my clone screamed and batted at my face. My grip closed around a fleshy organ, pulsing in my hands, it was surprisingly tough, I pulled. The body stilled beneath me.

I blinked, coming back to myself. My body screamed with pain, my hand, my leg, my face, and side. I looked down at my hand, it was covered in blood and viridian serpent scales shimmered across my bloody hand, fading by the moment. Even though I distinctly remember pulling the heart free, my hand was empty, clutched around nothing. I heard the rumble of the monster's footsteps, very close, as a long groping tentacle rounded the corner.


	21. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

When normal people think of tentacles they think of octopus or squid tentacles. Long, thin, usually orange, and covered in suction cups. Alternatively, they might think of nautilus tentacles, smooth, white, and usually attached to a small animal, these tentacles are technically called cirri.

The monster's tentacles were neither. They looked like they used muscular hydrostat pressure to move, like normal tentacles or cirri, but they weren't smooth or uniform. Instead, they were corded and slimy, looking more like long worms than a cephalopod's tentacle.

In truth they were disgusting, and if I wasn't so exhausted I would probably do something just to remove them from the face of the earth. As it was, the pain radiating from my body made it difficult to move, or even breath really. When I inhale my face hurts. When I exhale my chest hurts.

I slowly eased backward, as the tentacles groped towards me, narrowly avoiding either screaming or hissing in pain as pressure was put on my wounds.

"I know you're there," A thin reedy voice said, and I heard the massive squelch of several tons of bone, muscle, and sinew moving.

I moved back around the corner of the next turn. I didn't even attempt to throw my voice or try any subterfuge.

"I am," I replied, my voice climbed higher in pitch between the first word and the next as a lance of pain came from my cheek. The monster growled, the sound of the faint female voice making such an animalistic sound might've been amusing if it hadn't been echoed by a half dozen animal sounds, each more bestial than the last.

Yeah, no way was I approaching that thing. I saw a long tentacle grab the dead body of my clone and pull it back towards the colossal titan of flesh and putridness emerging from behind the corner. She was pulled straight into the flesh, disappearing into the fetid tissue with nary a sign of her passing.

What could I do? Fleeing would be wise, but I was unsure if I could actually make it far enough down the hall at my current pace. Alternatively, I could try and kill the monster, but she seemed to be able to generate homicidal clones of myself which also hated me, which so far had either dealt enormous damage to myself or were suicidal. This meant trying to kill her was a far shot since I both had to avoid being touched and find a weak point, which was frankly, a far shot even if I thought I could get a killing blow. I might be able to kill her with the Key, but relying on its supernatural power was probably unwise. I still didn't know the mechanics of why it killed Leviathan, and its kills against my clones were not outside the capabilities of a normal knife, viridian scales notwithstanding.

I activated survival instincts but it uncharacteristically gave me no insight into my current situation. Wait… a faint yellow light shone from the area behind the monster. Somehow, my survival instincts, which had never led me wrong before wanted me to get on the other side of the monster.

There was one problem, there was no way I could possibly manage to dodge all of the flesh monster's grasping tendrils. Not in my current situation. I looked down at my satchel, thinking. As I allowed myself a moment, the monster finished emerging from behind the wall. The same waif of an emaciated woman rested on top of the twitching titanic mound of pulsating flesh. The sam insane hungry look in her eyes remaining as when I last saw her.

"Krouse said I could eat you," She said, licking her lips, in what was a disturbing and hopefully, or maybe not hopefully, an unconscious tick, rather than she wanted to savour my flesh.

"I'd rather you didn't," I bit out, still backpedaling frantically as fast as I was able. She continued to advance quickly, swiftly moving across the ground towards me. For every meter I stepped back, she stepped forward two. Maybe if I could get her too monologue I could think of something?

"Who is... Krouse?" I asked haltingly.

"Krouse, Krouse," The monster smiled, looking pleased, "He's looking for a way to help me, to turn me normal again."

"Ah, you...weren't al-always like that?" I gestured with my stump towards her body, an idea occurred to me, a stupid idea but I had the very basics of a plan. My hand drifted towards my satchel, all right this was a stupid plan to end all stupid plans, but it was all I got.

"NO!" She exclaimed, snarling the words, her eyes shone with madness, spittle flying from her mouth. One of the heads on her lower body growled, twitching rheumy eyes towards me, there was a disturbing amount of intelligence behind those eyes. Intelligence that didn't match with the girl's insanity.

"NO!" The girl screamed shrilly in anger, she smashed her bulk into the wall, her upper body shaking in rage, "I was human! I didn't have these," she snarled the last part, "urges."

Her body still crept towards me, even as the girl on top seemed distracted, "I sometimes think this is punishment for how my body was before, always so fat, now it's monstrous. Yes, a punishment," she seemed to taste the words on her lips, "Now I'm always hungry, and I'm never full, I just eat and eat. I live in my NIGHTMARE!"

My hand closed upon what I sought and I pulled a handful free from my satchel. The red berries, more of them than I had ever taken at one time before, with green and blue mixed in. I shoved the whole handful into my mouth, a few berries dropping through my fingers, falling onto the concrete. I got a mouthful of bitter berries, the iron taste of my own blood mixing unfavourably with the taste of all the berries.

Even as the monster seemed to turn her attention towards me, I pulled my bow over my head, thankfully unbroken and notched an arrow. A poison arrow. The poison I used was made from Poison Dart frogs I gathered in the Peruvian jungle. It was a lipophilic alkaloid toxin and one frog typically had enough toxin to kill over twenty men. I hoped that the poison would be strong enough to kill the monster, but her colossal size rendered that unlikely.

I threw the arrow, since I couldn't really fire a gun with my missing hand, it flew through the air, guided by its fletching. My aim was perfect, guided by survival instincts. It flew unerringly and pierced her throat. She twitched, almost confused for a moment as her hands flew to the arrow sticking out of her throat. I was already enacting the next step of my plan. I jammed a fear arrow into my leg, ordinarily, that arrow's toxic effects would make one hallucinate and attack the closest ally in a fear-filled craze.

I knew I was gambling with my life here, but I didn't have many options. The pain lessened to a dull roar, still pulsing with each breath but manageable. I felt my heart beat faster and faster in my chest. I wasn't sure if this was my physical heart or only a phantom sensation. My face felt hot, I knew I was flushing, my body primed for fight or flight. The pain almost disappeared completely, as I began to move.

In contrast to my earlier stumbling gait, my stride was now mostly smooth, I knew I would really regret this later but it needed to be done. I activated survival instincts, watching in the slow-motion granted by my sight, and by the even more enhanced sight of the perception berries. Everything was glowing, yellows and reds. I dodged under a red tentacle, a tooth covered tentacle struck out but missed me by a whole meter.

I could hear the monster bellowing in shock and rage, just now realizing I had attacked it. I moved under its legs, barely passing through without touching either of the four gargantuan pillars of flesh, I lashed out with one arm, two more poison arrows, the last of my supply finding their home in her legs.

The monster staggered for a moment and I was free, I had passed through its area of control, through its grasping tentacles and stomping legs. Now I just had to follow my survival instincts, which still hadn't faded, the world was more grey than red and yellow now that I passed the monster but I continued forward. I heard the girl screaming and the mouths below her roaring but I was unperturbed. I needed to do this before my makeshift drug cocktail wore off. I ran forward, the spikes of pain from my leg, toes, and chest barely registering.

I entered the chamber which the monster had been destroying things in, it was filled with concrete pillars and shattered machinery. It almost looked like a foundry of some sort. I drew my pistol, as survival instinct lit something up in my vision a pleasant yellow.

I twisted, ignoring the pain in my chest and fired, the shot was jerky, ruined by my pulsing blood, but it was true, hitting a chain up on the wall, which loosened just enough that a vat began to fill with some kind of caustic chemicals. The vat itself was deep and recessed, with only a small safety fence around it. I had no idea why a base would have something like that, besides being just a stereotypically evil-looking thing to have. I pushed it from my mind.

I grabbed a heavy chain, each link must've weighed half a pound and painstakingly dragged it across the entrance to the chamber. I grabbed a piece of rebar from the wall, actually tearing it free from the concrete, bloodying my already bloody fingers more, and jammed it into a nearby piece of machinery, which began to sputter and spark immediately. I slid one end of the chain down the length of the rebar, where it caught, elevating the whole chain about a foot off the ground.

With a bellowing roar the monster cleared the door, I fired one bullet from my pistol straight into a pipe on the sparking piece of machinery. The pipe ruptured sending water spraying straight through all the sparks before it hit the monster. She screamed as the electrified water hit her and pushed forward, one massive leg catching on the heavy chain.

Slowly almost ponderously she tipped over, the upper part of her body falling straight into the caustic material. It wasn't that deep a pool and only the upper half of the body was submerged, I had no doubt that she would be free in just a moment so I got moving again, leaping for a vent, ignoring the returning pain in my leg.

At this point I was almost wholly letting survival instincts guide my movements, as my pulse thundered in my ears, almost seeming like they would burst from the pressure. I slammed into the vent and levered myself into it, pushing against the walls with my arms to pull myself into it.

It was cramped, cold and faint tinges of pain were returning to me. I moved quickly, shimmying up the vertical shaft as best I was able, the walls were cool under my almost too hot hand, and my still bleeding hand made the wall slick with blood. I continued to climb, ascending almost twenty meters, by the end my gut and leg were screaming at me, but I endured.

"I can do this," I whispered to myself, as I spotted light and pushed myself forward into a horizontal ventilation shaft. There was a dim red light coming out from a vent. I heaved, pushing against it, it was made of steel and seemed to perhaps be welded shut. I pulled my pistol free and fired into the side, two quick shots and pushed again. This would be much easier if I had my axe, I thought with frustration.

I pushed again, feeling the steel start to give, my earlier shots having weakened something. With one last heaving push with my feet, which hurt my poor bare feet something dreadful, the vent gave way, falling into the room below. I dropped down, landing on my feet with a hiss of pain, it was a three-meter drop, which meant the room I was in was quite spacious, at least in the ceiling department.

The room was carpeted, a thick brown carpet which I suspected was chosen to hide bloodstains. There was a wall of filing cabinets and a large wooden desk in the center of the room. On the desk sat a computer monitor. I strode forward, sliding into the seat, survival instincts had led me here, now to see what this was.

I pressed the power button, even as I heard a deep sound from below, the sound of concrete crashing and metal giving way. The base shuddered again, concrete dust falling from the ceiling, and the red emergency lights flickered. A long slow flicker, before they returned to shining steadily.

The computer booted, the Windows login symbol appearing. I shook my head. I didn't have time for this, I put my hand and stump arm under the desk's edge and heaved, my drug-enhanced strength almost allowing me to toss it. However, it didn't tip, just slid forward. I paused as I saw a little trapdoor under the desk. I bent down and tried to lift it, half expecting it to be locked or something like that. It opened easily revealing a giant red button. Well, that was as helpful as ever.

Also, when life gives you red buttons… I pressed the button. A little screen lit up next to the button, little green words requesting that I enter a code to confirm. I raised my hands and punched the thing as hard as I was able, frustration finally finding an outlet.

It beeped, "Code accepted," it said, electronic voice distorted, "Base self-destruct activated, three minutes to detonation."

My thoughts crystallized as several realizations ran through my head. First, this was my way to kill the monster. Second, this was also a way I could end up killing myself. Third, the monster needed to die, and with her apparent durability that meant she probably needed to be right on top of the explosion in order for it to kill her.

I stumbled over to the file cabinets, the pain in my leg growing by the second. My head felt hazy, almost as if I was in a daze, and it was getting a little hard to breathe. I risked a glance down. My injured leg was covered in blood from the bandage down, there was more blood both fresh and drying than bare skin. I grimaced and pulled open a filing cabinet.

Inside was names I didn't know, "Sarah Livsey? Jean-Paul Vasil?"

I threw the files aside, pulling open another cabinet, this one had the labels I needed, "ventilation, chemical foundry, vehicle depot, signal extenders, escape plans!"

I grabbed the plans which were quiet helpfully labeled escape plans, looking them over quickly. There was a shorthand notation that I didn't recognize but the blueprints were architectural printouts… I dropped a news article that was bundled up with all the blueprints. I didn't bother to pick it up, it was just an obituary.

There! I spotted a note, this one in plain English, "GBU-47/D" it was helpfully labeled with 'base denial measures' right below the words. That combined with the empty space allotted for it made me almost positive that was my prize. I quickly located the room I was in on the schematics, noting the way that the concrete was shaped and the indicated inbuilt fracture points for utmost destruction when the bomb went off.

I hobbled for the door, it wasn't far from here. As I pulled open the door, the floor of the room under me erupted, flesh and freely bleeding tissue pushing upwards, flanked by tentacles. I paused for just a moment as the even more disfigured figure of the girl atop the monster's back followed the rest up. Her flesh was eaten away by acid, leaving bare muscle and bone, a hateful single eye stared into my single eye. Hey look, we matched!

"YOU!" She screamed, the sound raw and visceral, "THAT HURT!"

I sprinted down the hallway, hearing the sound of wood crashing behind me. It was followed shortly afterward by the sound of bone on concrete as the wall exploded behind me. A grasping tentacle, with long sprouts of bone, whipped out towards me, the fastest I had ever seen one of her tentacles move. It sliced upwards along my back, just narrowly grazing me, cutting into my grey top. It suddenly felt loose, and I felt a line of pain race up along my spine. That was close.

She screamed in rage as I lengthened the space between us as she focused on squeezing through the gaping hole in the wall. Which despite its gaping was too small for her bulk.

"COME BACK!" She screamed, pulling herself forward futilely with her stick-like arms. No way was I doing that.

I raced forward, my steps loud from both the slap of my bare feet against concrete but also exacerbated by the blood. There it was, a heavy metal door, labeled, "Base Denial Countermeasure 4."

I slammed myself against it, feeling something in my shoulder give. The door dented a little but didn't break, I hit it again, stepping back a few feet before slamming myself bodily against it again, and again.

With a groan, something broke inside and it swung open. My side was a mess of pain, but my drug cocktail was keeping the worst of it at bay. The door was open, I just needed to lure the monster into the tiny room.

"Hey, you!" I yelled out the door at the monster, I racked my brain for a good insult, ah, I had nothing, "You're fat!"

She screamed in fury, I guess that worked a little better than I expected.

"My name is NOELLE!" She bellowed, striding forward, her massive form twisting and crushing the concrete below her. As before I heard bones snapping and flesh squelching as she approached at what was almost a gallop. I looked at the wall of the chamber I was in. There were concrete funnels in every direction, many of them above me, to channel the explosion to all the parts of the base that needed to be destroyed. I jumped, hand lashing forward to grasp the edge of one of the funnels above me. The floor was a large grate and I spotted the rotund spherical shape of the bomb below it.

If I wanted to survive I had to keep the monster, Noelle, there while making it clear myself. The funnels were the way to go. I needed to get her at the edge of one while remaining in front of her. With luck I wouldn't be too badly injured to survive if she ended up inadvertently shielding me.

As I pulled myself up, body screaming in protest, Noelle smashed through the wall into the room. She immediately spotted me and jumped, actually jumped, a long tentacle grasping the side of the funnel, she started to heave herself up, madness in her human eyes.

"Five seconds to detonation," A voice seemed to blare. Dimly, I wondered whether it had been announcing the time left this whole time.

Then, there was light.


	22. Interlude 4

AN: Tried to write Coil interlude, I don't think the time is just right yet, so have Panacea!

Interlude: Cure-all

The first Panacea noticed was the tremor that hit the city. She would've thought it was an earthquake but it was just the one, there were no aftershocks. Still, she expected that whatever it was there would be incoming arrivals soon that would need her attention, so she wrapped up what she was doing. Almost absentmindedly healing over the gash on her patient's leg and then moved out into the hallway.

She spotted a doctor, in fact, it wasn't any ordinary doctor, it was the head doctor, Dr. McClod.

"Panacea," He said, looking faintly out of breath, "The PRT just called in, they need your help, a helicopter is going to pick you up on the roof."

Panacea nodded, smoothing down her ruffled red and white costume. She was usually willing to help the PRT to the best of her ability, they were heroes after all.

"I won't be needed here?" She asked, more as a formality than anything else. In fact, most of the time she would actually prefer helping the PRT over the hospital. Now and then they had exotic wounds, which actually felt like she was _needed_ to heal. Most days it seemed like her position in the hospital was superfluous, even with all the people she was asked to heal after Leviathan's attack.

As she made her way to the roof her thoughts flashed towards one particular individual. Lara Croft, the woman that had killed Leviathan. She had to admit to herself that when the PRT had dragged her to heal the woman she hadn't been impressed.

Her patient hadn't looked like someone that killed an Endbringer. She didn't have a flashy costume or even the proper demeanor for someone that had killed the unkillable. She had been lying quietly in bed staring at the ceiling. Dirt, grime, and blood covering her body and costume.

Her body was just as baffling, an enormous quantity of chemicals circulating through her blood, the way they were binding to her neurotransmitters just enough that she didn't die. Panacea's first thought was that they were combat stims, due to how perfect the dosage was, a moment later she realized it must be natural somehow, the chemical's markers too natural to be artificial.

She had wiped as much of the chemicals from Croft's system as she could, after all, she was a real hero. She killed Leviathan, and so she deserved the best Brockton Bay could offer, and since Panacea didn't think Othala was available she was all they got.

In some ways, the chemicals were closer to poisons, and one of them, in particular, did something really weird to her visual cortex, Panacea didn't mess around with that much since she didn't know what it did and because of her self imposed limit on messing with brains.

Ever since Panacea had developed powers, and realized what she could do, she made a vow never to alter someone's brain. She had never healed a concussion or brain cancer. However, she had, on occasion, flushed chemicals out of people's brains. For that she justified it as not even really needing to touch the brain, just help filter the blood.

Her lips twisting in slight amusement, Panacea recalled that the rest of Croft's body had been a similar mess. She had spent no inconsiderable amount of time relaying most of this info back to the PRT when they asked. Her back had been mauled and her body had suffered more trauma than Panacea had ever seen on a living body before.

Impalements, organ scarring, all three degrees of burns, gunshot wounds, arrow wounds, old slashes, strangulation, bludgeonings. All this and more the body she repaired had been subject to somehow, and that was all before reaching the age of twenty-five. Even more crazily it was combined with enough drugs to kill a dozen professional Archer's Bridge Merchant druggies, the kind that guzzled tinker tech concoctions for recreation.

The new wounds were less horrendous but still potent, razor-sharp obsidian shards, cuts and lacerations, cracked bones, and worse of all was the heart.

Panacea paused her mind going blank. The heart. She couldn't understand the heart, her head began to ache as she thought of the blank spot. Blood went in and was pushed around inside her body by the constant rhythm of a heart, but there was no heart. Only emptiness.

Panacea shuddered. It was wrong. Every fiber of her being screamed that something was wrong when she tried to push her power towards the heart.

"Panacea, ready to go?" A voice jolted her out of her thoughts of blood and organs. It was a PRT trooper, holding the door open to a helicopter. Surprised, Panacea tried to process what just happened, she had been walking up the stairs to the roof and thinking-thinking… she shook her head.

"Yes," she replied, taking the offered hand and stepping into the helicopter, "What's the situation?"

"The area around Shelter H collapsed into a giant sinkhole, preliminary investigation has revealed that it was a massive bomb hidden inside."

Panacea's blood ran cold. A bomb inside one of the shelters? Was this one last middle-finger from Bakuda?

"Casualties?" She asked, mouth almost running on autopilot. She barely heard the reply, especially when it was the exact answer she expected.

"Extensive, most of the surrounding buildings and most of the LRC, the Leviathan Research Center, collapsed," The trooper paused, as they started to lift off the roof of the hospital.

"We've found something disturbing. There are fragments of flesh, the shape is non-human, we're hoping you might be able to identify what they came from."

Panacea nodded, watching the world whizz by below her. Her thoughts turned to what the PRT was asking of her, not just healing but identification. Belatedly, a little panic swelled to the surface of her thoughts but she forced it down. No. They didn't know, they just knew she had a diagnostic ability, not that she could manipulate all life.

After a short and awkward flight, the helicopter started to descend, its blades stirring up a massive cloud of dust. The helicopter had barely touched the ground when there was a hand tugging on her arm and a voice yelling into her ear, "This way to the triage center!"

She stumbled along behind an officer, who was covered in dust and had a dark reddish stain down the front of his uniform. A moment later, she entered a tent, which was crowded with injured. Immediately, she laid her hand on the first and starting fixing him. Muscle to muscle, muscle to bone, reconnect blood vessels, smooth out contusions. Once one was fixed enough to be stable she turned to the next.

A regular doctor in a uniform worked alongside her steadily, directing her attention to the most critical. After about thirty minutes of non-stop healing, she heard a voice calling out to her, breaking the monotony.

"Panacea! Panacea? Can you tell us what this is?"

A fragment of flesh in a plastic bag was held out to her by the same officer as before, his name patch above his breast pocket said, Buchanan. She reached out, taking the plastic bag. She slipped her hand inside it and touched the fragment.

"It's human, but not," She said, only partially aware how distant her voice sounded, "There's a crystal lattice structure underlying the flesh."

"Thank you," The officer stepped away, speaking into a radio that a soldier nearby gave him as he walked away.

"Make way! Make way!" She heard a voice calling and she half turned away from the body she was devoting her attention too at the sharp inhalation from the doctor next to her.

Four soldiers entered with a stretcher, on the stretcher was blackened and pinkish burnt remains. Or scratch that, Panacea thought as she noticed the faint whisper of breath leave the body.

She stepped forward and laid her hand on the body. The blackened tissue under her hand was too dead for her power to affect.

"Scalpel," She said quickly, "The flesh on the surface is too dead."

The doctor stumbled into action, grabbing the instrument she asked for and handing it to her, she leaned forward and cut a small incision in the surface of the burnt bodies skin. The smell was terrible, burnt human flesh always smelled awful.

She stuck her finger in the wound and stilled as she realized who it was, "Croft?"

"What?" The officer said, stepping into the tent, "That's Croft?"

Panacea didn't bother to respond, she started to heal the body, boggling at the injuries. She smoothed out the nerves, ignoring the highly lethal dose of chemicals since it actually seemed to be keeping her alive for the moment. She closed up the gaping but cauterized wound in her leg. Was that caused by a sword? It was a deep puncture wound.

She was missing an eye for goodness' sake! She spared just a moment to still the bleeding under the charred bandage and returned to the important stuff. She was forced to cannibalize the impressive muscles that Croft had in order to save her. A cut along her spine and burns that extended a whole centimeter in places into her flesh.

Panacea shook her head, it was actually impossible that she was alive right now… her brain almost seemed to be more chemical than cerebrospinal fluid, and that wasn't even biologically possible!

And the fractures in half the bones in her body! If the blood loss and trauma hadn't killed her, then, by golly, the shock should've. It was a miracle that she was even alive with the stab wound through the heart…

Panacea paused, before mentally rewinding as she closed up the stab wound, finally realizing something. She had a heart. A perfectly healthy heart, unmarred by any of the damage the rest of her body had suffered.

A perfectly healthy heart, but it wasn't Croft's. No, the DNA was strange, it was like looking through a fog, it was both Croft's DNA and it wasn't. It had fragments of other things, the crystal, and something… something incomprehensible.

Panacea shook her head, what was she thinking of again?


	23. Interlude 5

AN: I ended up writing the Coil interlude anyways. It turned out a little more humorous then I intended, so I hope everyone is fine with that?

Interlude: The Snake

Coil, by the very nature of his power, was semi-ubiquitous. The ability to split time, in effect be in two places at once had served him well in the past to make it seem like he knew exactly the right moves.

For instance, when Leviathan first struck the city, Thomas Calvert, the civilian identity of Coil in one instance got up and left his desk in the PRT headquarters downtown and headed for the nearest shelter. His other self had not even gone into work that day, but had called in, citing a scheduling conflict, and stayed home.

It was not as if his presence in the HQ was even generally required. The nature of his job as an on-call consultant, which was only tangentially connected to the chain of command, meant that most days it didn't even matter if he worked at home or at the HQ. So no matter what he did it was unlikely to throw up flags.

He collapsed the timeline where he went to work when he saw the crowded and cramped conditions of the Endrbringer shelter the PRT expected all their employees cluster into. He wasn't particularly interested in waiting out the coming storm in close contact with most of them.

He split the timeline. In one he ordered his men to stay put but sent out the Travelers, minus their monster in his basement. In the other timeline, he keyed the comm.

"Prep Oracle for transport," He told Pitter, the words smooth, "We're moving to base Bravo."

"Affirmative," Pitter responded, "Transport above or under, sir?"

"Under," The roads would be congested, filled with panicking civilians, and it was the height of stupidity to be in your car when Leviathan attacked. There would be no way to defend against the tidal waves.

He stood up, grabbing a few of the files he still needed to look over and made to leave, himself. After all, there was no point in both versions of him staying in the same location when there was an Endbringer incoming.

The other him, remained seated at the desk, manually flicking through the base's cameras. Checking the countermeasures for the monstrous cape the Travelers were so attached to. Tinker-tech acid? Ready for deployment. The blast doors? Secure. The deadly nerve agent? Ready to be deployed. Coil smiled, at least one of these should work, right? He made a little note to test them in an alternate timeline at some point. He smiled some more, imagining the screams as that 'thing' died, and the pleading voices of her friends.

Satisfied that the countermeasures would be sufficient Coil gave the green light for his employees to start letting the arriving refugees that would fill the actual Endbringer Bunker shelter part of his secret base. The best camouflage he had ever devised. After all, who would notice if Fortress Construction took a couple of months longer than normal to build a shelter and had a lot of maintenance crews going in and out when it wasn't being used for drills?

Most people preferred not to think about the possibility of an Endbringer attack, and even if they did notice the activity would probably be relieved and grateful that whenever they needed it, it would be properly maintained.

By this point, his other self had reached the underground tram he had stealthily constructed. It required the services of a prominent architect and a team of engineers which he had killed after he finished constructing it. It was the architect's own fault really, not taking sufficient precautions. The vat of acid was useful for disposing of bodies after all.

Coil frowned at the thought of the vat, it was a nasty way to go, he had the catwalks over it removed and added a little safety fence after accidentally slipping into it himself during one of his walking inspections of his little demesne. That and the shark tank, he'd always wanted a shark tank to threaten people with, but could never seem to keep the sharks alive.

It was also a useless vanity expenditure, which was part of the reason he hadn't had it installed in this base. It turned out that building a giant chamber for sharks was both expensive and impractical.

His self by the tram stepped into it, taking care to buckle his seatbelt, it always paid to pay attention to safety. Pitter followed a moment later, leading his oracle, Dinah Alcott. The girl's power was a godsend, the synergy with his power was perfect, and exactly what he needed to finally start establishing his control over the city.

As the underground tram started to move towards Base Bravo, and away from his current base, Base Charlie, the Coil in his office used his PRT credentials to listen in on the alerts currently going out over the city. He made sure to run it through his usual prepared virtual private networks to prevent anyone from gleaning something strange from his location. He had mostly obfuscated his access to the PRT's inner systems but it was always good to take all reasonable precautions.

In both timelines, he frowned as the casualties started to pile up. The tram stopped and he hurried out of it, giving orders to his subordinates to seal the track on both ends, there was no point in letting both bases flood from the tram.

It was unfortunate that Dauntless was killed, he thought, hearing the announcement, he would've been useful in further pushing at the empire. In fact, the ideal outcome of this Endbringer attack would see the PRT main movers weakened but their main hitters remaining to keep order in the city. In would be superb if the Empire bit the dust, but he would also settle for-

"Sir?" One of the mercenaries said in both timelines, radioing in, "We've been unable to locate the Undersiders. They may have joined the fight."

What? Coil froze as he considered what this meant for his plans. All of them could die, more importantly, Tattletale could die, and she was quite useful. He forcefully relaxed, there were only so many options he could take. He would be having words with Tattletale if she survived, once the attack was over.

"Keep looking, try to confirm that they've joined the fighting," He replied tersely in both timelines.

He settled in his seat in one timeline, going over files, partially ignoring the reports coming in as he made notes to rewrite contingencies based on the casualties reports. The PRT itself also had its own separate reports, mainly categorizing damage being done to the city. Those were more useful since it would help determine the reach of his civilian life once all the fighting was over.

He perked up, as Kaiser's death was announced, that was at least something going right today. He turned over some more papers that he was preparing for the PRT, drawing out the contingency plan that the director before Piggot had laid out for rebuilding after an attack by an Endbringer. Most of the proposed response to Leviathan was based on restructuring the docks, which was kind of a moot point since the docks were barely used anyway. Coil supposed this file was written in the time when the dock workers were expected to rebound instead of continuing to decline.

Coil was distracted by the various reports when he realized something. The Endbringer was awfully close to his self in base Charlie, in fact, if that report was correct he was right on top of it.

The red emergency lights blared to life, as the loudspeaker announced, "Primary shelter doors breached."

He almost canceled the timeline, but decided against it, instead he got up and strapped his pistol to his side. Never hurts to be prepared. The base shuddered, concrete dust falling. The lights went out and Coil frowned. The front door was nowhere near the generator. A moment later power was restored to his office as the tertiary generator started up. It didn't have nearly the power of the primary, however, and only activated vital systems.

"Evacuate base Charlie," he ordered in both timelines, one in which he was in Base Bravo, the other in which he was in base Charlie.

"Affirmative," His security head of base Charlie responded.

"Sir! Containment breach! The monster down in subsection five is panicking!" A frantic voice suddenly cut into the transmission," Coil felt his gut sinking. He dropped the timeline where he was in Charlie.

Now with both his bodies safe in Bravo, he gave orders.

"Secure Noelle of the Travelers, set shots to kill," he ordered in one timeline.

In the other, "Ignore Noelle, continue withdrawing."

Several tense moments followed, he heard the whine of laser fire from the tinker tech guns over the open comm.

"She got Wilkins!" He heard one of his mercenaries report.

"Fall back," He said in the timeline where they tried to contain Noelle.

In the other he said nothing, hearing the frantic sound of his soldiers grabbing his important files and heading out of the base.

"We have exited into tunnels A, D, and E," his head of security, former U.S. Army captain Jeffery Jones said. It had been a stroke of fortune at the time when he managed to secure the allegiance of the soldier about a year ago, and he had risen high in Coil's organization since then. It was amazing what a few well-placed levers could do during a trial, military or not. Especially, when his power made him quite adept at locating blackmail.

There was still the problem of Noelle but hopefully, she could be contained. If not now then at a later date…

"Sir," Jones said, screaming into the radio, in the background Coil could hear the sound of rushing water, "The tunnels are breached!"

Well that was an issue, after listening to them struggle for a long moment, he concluded that there wasn't much way they could survive.

"Update on containment measures?" He asked in the other timeline as he listened to his men drown in the other.

"Failing," Came the response, he heard screams and more laser shots, "She has a whole swarm of clones, and they're all rabid!"

"Fall back to the armory!"

"Acknowledged!" The mercenary replied.

It was a disaster, Coil thought morosely. Leviathan was dead, which wasn't actually bad in itself and most people could even argue that it was a good thing.

What Leviathan's death had done to the city was the issue. In one of his timelines, he had visited his PRT HQ office, writing up policy recommendations, but he couldn't do much more since the Triumvirate was taking an awful interest in the city and he was loathe to draw their ire. So he had ended that timeline, deciding to say he was telecommuting that day.

Everything in Brockton Bay was under international scrutiny. The whole world wanted to know all about the city in which an Endbringer died. With that amount of attention, it was nearly impossible to conduct any sort of action that he didn't want to be dissected by the Protectorate thinkers.

He had considered trying to seize Croft himself. Each timeline he dedicated to the task while she wandered about the city failed. Failed badly, his usual crew of mercenaries was insufficient, she literally cut through as if they were chaff and wheat before a scythe.

Coil shuddered, thinking of the images his observing soldiers had forwarded him, one of those was an especially nasty way to go, axe pick to the groin and left to bleed out. Coil paused, considering it, maybe he should try it on somebody. For research of course, and stress relief. His usual modus operandi had failed of course so he escalated.

He attempted to track her down when she was in the docks and failed there too. It turned out she was tracking the men that were tracking her the whole time and quite easily picked them off one by one. Even ended up stringing one unfortunate mercenary up by his own intestines. The woman was a horror movie monster given human form.

He didn't stop his 'recruitment' attempts. He was Coil and eventually, he would succeed, he could always try again and again with none the wiser.

Coil leaned back in his seat in the base, daydreaming. With Croft under his command then he could finish taking out the opposition like she did those nazi's earlier. Coil frowned, considering that incident. It had been one of his better plays, he decided that if he hadn't been able to grab her, best to let the nazis soften her up, and then make another play.

She just straight up and killed them, which was really too good to let go. Krieg, after all, was the most likely to seize control of the Empire with the death of Kaiser, and with him gone there was really no reason for Gesellschaft to involve itself it Brockton Bay anymore.

A file popped up on his monitor. Coil frowned and leaned forward. That was the alert for base Charlie, wasn't it? He pulled up the video feed, the tertiary generator was still working after all. Thankfully, Noelle had been contained by the flooding of both the main Endbringer shelter chambers, the collapse of the tram track tunnel, and the flooding of all entrance tunnels, so he really didn't see why he should be getting an 'intruder alert'.

He stilled, as the shaky video feed revealed… Croft, jamming his door open with a dinosaur. Coil blinked.

He keyed up radio feed to his new chief of security, John Ross, and asked, "Do you have visuals on Croft?"

"Negative, Sir, she entered the interior of Endbringer shelter H about seven minutes ago. We're still waiting for her to resurface."

Coil killed the radio feed. Well, this was an issue. He had no operational assets in the part of the building Croft was in. No defense measures that deep, all the traps and environmental hazards were on the upper levels, not in the sub-basement levels. Actually, wasn't Noelle down there somewhere in the sub-basement? He knew that she had got all his guards, or more accurately her clones had, but her bulk had smashed a lot of his cameras, and she was currently in a blind spot.

He watched Croft make her way through his once pristine base. She looked absolutely ridiculous. Hair soaking wet and clad only in a soaked grey top and blue hospital scrub pants. She also had a plethora of weapons, what looked like a Desert Eagle, a bow, arrows, climbing axes, and a bulging satchel. Coil scowled, eyeing the satchel, he sure hoped that she wasn't intending on filling that satchel with his stuff.

She was! Coil watched with growing anger as she wandered about, looting his armory. He'd paid an obscene amount of money for those rifles, and with the way she was holding it she was going to break it. Hey, stop that, the trigger's the most delicate part on those rifles!

Coil stewed in his anger for a little bit, just watching her walk around and examine the stuff in his armory. Thankfully, she didn't touch anything else but continued on, Coil watching her closely whenever she entered a place with camera coverage.

Wait, there was Noelle, she was moving back into her original holding pen. She was also clutching a radio, one of the two-way radios that his men carried. He flipped through the channels until he found the conversation she was having, it was carried by the tinker tech signal extender located throughout all his bases.

Ah, it was Trickster and he was talking down Noelle, telling her to stay put, stay quiet, and wait to be saved. Excellent, Coil mused to himself, exactly what he needed. He remembered actually speaking to Trickster about this, he had reassured the teleporter that he was doing everything in his power to save Trickster's girlfriend but with all entrances to the base destroyed and the U.S. military literally camped right on top of the shelter there wasn't much he could do. He had lied to Trickster, saying that the military probably wouldn't stay that long, when all likelihood they'd be staying indefinitely.

"Well with that little bit of good news," Coil said to himself before continuing speaking to himself, "I'll ask my questions."

"Pitter?" Coil said, keying up the man's frequency. Pitter was a registered nurse and the main caretaker of Dinah. Sometimes he worried that the man would turn against him but regular interrogations proved that unlikely.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Put my pet on."

"At once, sir."

"Yes?" Came the wavering, scared voice of Dinah.

"You know the question."

Dinah whined, a pitiful sound, "0.003% chance there's trouble here in the next hour, 30.567% chance there's trouble before lunchtime."

That was worrying. He collapsed the other timeline where he didn't call Pitter in order to ask more questions.

Collapsing and re-collapsing timelines, he swiftly narrowed down who exactly it would be that caused trouble. Funnily enough, it was the PRT, which he had no idea on how they found him. He started to try and think back through his day to see if he made any mistakes when he realized that he'd turned his attention away from the cameras in base Charlie.

Coil turned back towards his screen. Wait where did Croft go? He didn't see her on any of the fields… wait there she was, lying in that pool of water. Coil played back the camera feed, had she really drowned?

No, as it turned out, Noelle ended up chasing Croft and grabbed her in the process, spawning four clones. One immediately took off after Croft and went back into the blindspot, the other two crept off in different directions. The last just laid herself down and did nothing. He watched for a moment before discarding that clone, sometimes they were defective.

Coil got up to grab some coffee from his coffee machine. He never trusted someone else to make coffee for him, even with his power. He was too intimately aware of the myriad ways that you could kill someone with poison in their coffee. After all, he had it done once or twice himself.

"Base Charlie Self Destruct activated!" the words suddenly blared from his computer, making him drop his cup of coffee, he rushed back to the computer, in continued, "Please input the password to confirm?"

"He was just about to remotely input the cancellation, and was three digits into the twenty characters long password, when the screen flickered and announced, "Override confirmed, base detonation in five minutes."

Coil could only watch in horror as the little red numbers in the corner of his screen counted down. This ruined everything. There would be an investigation for sure when his bomb went off, and once the self-destruct was confirmed there was no way to remotely deactivate it. How had it activated in the first place? Coil was still trying to go through the camera files when he felt the tremor through his whole base, and the little red numbers on his screen blinked 00:00:00.


	24. Chapter 19

Chapter 19:

I ran, feet sloshing in seawater. Viridian green scales shimmering in the shadows around me. When I turned my head, they vanished like apparitions. I smashed into a wall of ice, I caught a glimpse of sulfur yellow. Cold dead eyes. Reptile eyes.

The beat of a heart permeated the air. A moment later it morphed into a frantic beating, like a hummingbird's heart. Then there was a hummingbird, flitting over the knee-deep water. A tiny little red hummingbird, it flitted before me, hovering a moment before darting for my chest, disappearing between my breasts. I clutched at where it entered. To my horror, I realized that my hands weren't human. Great talons, and scales lingering over veins glowing green and blue.

I slogged through the rising water, fighting to ignore the clarion call bludgeoning my head. I didn't know when it started but with every breath now, it made my head scream with pain.

Sunlight shone, refracted by the ice, and the water boiled beneath my feet. I felt the scalding water, searing my skin. I heard the earthy rasp of scales on soil, and looked through the ice, at a world of scales beyond.

Shadows flickered before my barely lidded eyes. Each breath seared my lungs, I felt like there was a liquid fire in my lungs. I started to choke.

I heard a distant voice, "She's already coming out of it? Quick! Give her another dose, half-strength!"

I heard a pneumatic hiss, and darkness crept back over my vision. I did not dream, I felt the sensation of floating. In and out of consciousness. I felt that I could think of something to occupy my time. At the same moment, I had no inclination to do anything but float.

Out of memory and time I floated, content. The pain that had dogged my body for so long absent. I felt no desire, no restlessness, no driving urge to move and keep moving lest I die.

There was no need for fortitude in this blank emptiness, no, I could just let myself drift. Lulled to peace by the tremor of my heart and the rush of blood through my body.

"Is she able to see visitors?" I heard another distant voice say, who knows how long later.

"Yes, but she's been like that for three days, you're not likely to get a response," I heard a more familiar voice say. Panacea, I remembered her.

"Can she hear me? Is she comatose?"

"Yes, and I don't know," Panacea's distant voice replied. I could almost detect a faint tinge of some emotion in her voice. So faint that if I had anything else to do but think and hear I might've missed it, it was guilt.

"Her body is odd, as you know I can see brains but not affect them. She is awake, but she also lingers in an almost dream state."

"Something to do with her powers? Her corona pollentia?" The second voice spoke again. I heard the rustle of fabric and the scrape of metal. I couldn't muster any motivation to react, I was beyond both thought and memory.

"Possibly," Panacea replied, "Here is the MRIs, as you can see here and here, there appears to be something almost missing from her head. See this spot, here is where I would expect the pollentia lobe to be."

"It's empty."

"Yes, but the tissue connecting is still feeding into something, see these lines, so it must be something that the MRI can't see."

I heard the rustle of fabric again, and the movement of air over my skin. I felt a whisper of displaced air as a hand reached out and touched the skin right above my eye.

Immediately, a jolt of fire ran through me. A cruel smile flashed back in my mind, groping fingers, and then darkness and pain. There was a crash and the sound of someone shouting in surprise. A heavy footstep and then another crash, the sound of tearing drywall.

A jolt of pain where there had been none for so long. I opened my eyes, yes, both eyes and blinked against the sudden light. The antiseptic smell of a hospital flooded my nose. I bit back a sneeze, talk about an unnatural smell. I felt a soft hand grasp my shoulder, it lacked calluses, a hand unused to hardship.

"Calm down!" I heard Panacea's voice command.

"Get back from her!" I heard the second voice say.

"You were the one that made her suffer some kind of flashback!" I heard Panacea respond, vitriol in her voice, "Need I remind you that she's my patient?"

I heard a grumble and heavy footsteps walking away, then a door opening with a creaking groan, and then closing sharply just short of slamming.

"You're all right," Panacea reassured me as the light finally started to dim to a more noticeable level.

I breathed in and out, staring up at the freckled face and heavy eyes of Panacea. Her voice was calm and kind but her face was half-scowling.

I was laying on the floor, an overturned hospital bed near me and a thin hospital blanket around my legs. A likewise wispy thing hospital gown was around my body. Pink drywall fragments and plaster littered the floor and a man-sized hole gaped in the nearest wall.

"I think you startled Armsmaster about as bad as he startled you," Panacea said, hoping to alleviate the tension. However, all she did was remind me of my flashback. I shuddered, hand going for my eye.

"My eye," I whispered, my voice hoarse. The beginnings of a cough started to form, I felt something strange for a moment and then it faded away. When I spoke again, my voice was smoother, more normal, "It was gone?"

"Yes," Panacea said, slowly helping me to my feet, "I grew it back for you. Now let me help you back onto your bed. You've had quite an ordeal and despite my healing, you really shouldn't be active."

Once I was standing, wobbling on my feet, Panacea righted my steel frame bed, grunting in exertion as she so. I felt awkward, just standing there, but I also felt weak, extraordinarily weak. I felt like I did before Yamatai, but even more so. I felt like I had the strength of my pre-university self. I looked down at my arms, even as Panacea helped me climb back onto the bed.

There was no muscle, no definition, just bare skin, and bones. Panacea righted an IV stand, which had evidently also got knocked down. I noticed a drop of blood welling on my arm.

"A nurse will be by in just a moment to help put that back in. You're lucky actually, they were about to put a gastric tube in today if you didn't wake."

I shuddered, that was an unpleasantness I was glad I had avoided. I was suddenly aware of a different tube, one in a very awkward place and felt my face flush slowly. I took Panacea's offered hand and laid back on the bed.

"I'm actually surprised there hasn't been someone here to check on you alr-" Panacea was cut off as a doctor entered, clad in a white overcoat and blue hospital scrubs, her hair was secured in plastic.

"Good morning," The doctor said brightly, before eyeing the destruction left by Armsmaster with annoyance, "I'm glad that you're finally awake! My name is Dr. Emma Sinclair, and I'll be overseeing some small routine tests today, just to see how you're doing."

Some confusion must've lingered on either Panacea's face or on mine since she continued, "Armsmaster informed us you were awake, as well as waking half the floor."

A nurse in pink scrubs and no white overcoat entered a moment later, as Dr. Sinclair spoke again, "Let's move you to a more… intact… room."

She turned around and strode out of the room, leaving Panacea, the nurse and I behind. The nurse grasped the back of my bed and pushed it forward, the wheels sticking slightly on the plaster fragments littering the ground.

In a moment I was out in a sterile-looking hallway, fluorescent lights shining brightly overhead. Panacea took that moment to peel away, sending me a regretful look, before saying, "There are more patients that need my attention."

I watched her go, still quite tired. I felt the grasp of sleep claw at me, attempting to draw me back into unconsciousness. I steeled my mind, I had probably slept enough if what Panacea said was true and they were thinking about putting a feeding tube in my side. That, and the fact that I could feel a catheter between my legs, which I must reiterate was unpleasant.

The nurse followed Dr. Sinclair into a new room about five doors down the hall. The doctor stopped to write something on the door before holding it open for the nurse to wheel me in. The moment I was passed she started to direct the nurse, telling her where to place the bed, and then what kind of equipment to grab.

A blood pressure cuff, which I was sure had a more technical term, but I couldn't be bothered to try and recall it. The nurse rattled off some numbers, they sounded a little high to me, but the doctor didn't seem alarmed so I let it go. The nurse also lifted my hand, looking momentarily confused before going and grabbing a little electronic monitor and clipping it around my finger.

"Well you seem to be in good health," Dr. Sinclair said, writing something more of her clipboard, "I'd like to keep you overnight for observation and have you do some tests this afternoon but other than that, you seem fine."

She turned away, muttering to herself, she probably didn't intend for me to hear her whispers to herself but my hearing caught a fragment, "-odd, blood sample-"

The door swung shut behind her and I turned my attention to the nurse who looked at me for a moment before raising an eyebrow.

The nurse spoke then for the first time. She was a young woman, a little heavy but not unhealthy looking. She was more stocky, I guess, and had short brown hair, brown eyes, and a tanned complexion.

"The PRT director will probably be by to see you shortly, they're very interested in your case," The nurse said, "I suppose I should add, the whole world is watching your recovery, especially after what you did for it."

"What?" I said, blinking. The whole world, wait, why? Oh, actually, this was the thing with Leviathan still, wasn't it?

"I see," I continued after a moment.

The nurse broke into a smile then, almost infectious excitement coloring her next words, "Now that Dr. Sinclair is gone, can I bother you for an autograph?"

I signed a picture she pulled out of her scrubs, it was one of me and looked like it was taken from a distance. I didn't know whether to be disturbed by her request and picture or be flattered. What was clear, however, was that I wasn't sure I liked the idea of the whole world's attention on me.

The nurse got up to leave, presumably and I stopped her, clearing my throat. She turned around, a questioning look on her face, "the catheter," I said, heat rushing to my face as I indicated my lower region.

The nurse's mouth made a round 'o' before she turned back. A short awkward ordeal later and she was back on her way, and that unpleasantness was behind me. I just rested in the metal hospital bed for a moment, burying the trauma that I had experienced. Someday I would let it all out, probably to a therapist, but today I didn't need this doubt and second-guessing of myself. I buried it deep, under layers of my psyche.

A knock at my door knocked me free from my reverie, a nurse's voice, "Ms. Croft? You have a visitor!"

I looked over towards the door as it swung open, on the other side was the blonde hair and red face of PRT director Piggot. Shadowing her were two PRT officers, who didn't enter the room, but instead, took up stations just outside it.

Piggot entered my room, as I gestured to the nurse that it was all right, the nurse herself following close behind, starting to speak to Piggot.

"Please, ma'am, don't ask anything that might, um, excite her, she needs to stay calm."

Piggot nodded, her cold blue eyes still boring into mine, "Don't worry, I just need to ask a few questions, formalities really."


	25. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"First," I said, smoothing out my hospital gown with one hand, "I'd like to ask a question."

"Certainly," Piggot responded, but her tone of voice implied she'd rather get right to asking her questions. A view I could understand to some extent, I had no doubt that a MOAB detonation underneath the city had led to an extensive investigation and enormous damage.

"How many people died? How long have I been out?" I asked. I was cheating a little since I had only asked leave to ask one question.

Piggot answered both anyways, "It's May thirty-first, you were hospitalized on the morning of May seventeenth," Piggot paused, giving me a look, "I'm not sure if they've told you, but you would've certainly died without Panacea. Without her you would've had zero chance of living even another hour after they found you. In fact, it was something of a minor miracle they found you at all, with how collapsed the area was. To answer your first question, the current dead amount to two hundred and fifty-four."

So many. I leaned back, as much as I was able and closed my eyes, breathing in deep.

"Which brings me to the first of _my _questions, how involved were you with the detonation under the city?"

I exhaled, looking out the nearby window, a cherry tree was in full bloom, or rather at the end of its blooming, dead flowers intermingled with the vibrant pink of the living. I felt it was an appropriate metaphor. I hadn't wasted my time in boarding school with any floral interpretation classes, in fact, I wasn't even sure if they'd offered such a class, so I didn't know if cherry blossoms really were an appropriate metaphor.

I glanced back towards Piggot, not completely, but just out of the corner of my eye. Her face was growing increasingly stony looking the longer I took to answer, her eyes were the only thing that looked alive if the anger growing in them was any indication.

"Yes," I said quietly, turning my head more to gaze out the window exclusively.

"Yes?"

"I activated the bomb," I blurted out, not able to contain myself. Guilt roiled my insides, I felt faint and sick at the same time. This was bringing back memories of San Paulo, but here I really couldn't delude myself. I couldn't force it away with the thought that even if I hadn't taken the Key, Trinity would have and all the people would still have died.

"You activated the bomb?" Piggot's voice rose higher. There was disbelief and incredulity colored into those four words. Piggot continued a moment later speaking dangerously, "When I first stepped into this room I thought maybe circumstances had been beyond your control, one of your new enemies trying to take you out, and hence you'd be absolved of this… this tragedy! But you're saying that you detonated the bomb and directly killed over two hundred people?"

"I… I didn't think," I said, guilt still clouding my thoughts, I looked back towards Piggot, still not meeting her eyes, "It was the only way I could think to stop the monster… Noelle."

Piggot scowled at me, but at least she straightened out her notepad which had gotten all crinkled in her outburst, she bit out, "Who is Noelle?"

"Noelle," I started and then paused, suddenly unsure of how to describe her, "She was an amalgam of flesh almost four meters in diameter and three meters tall, she was also cannibalistic and created evil clones when she touched me."

Piggot opened her mouth to retort before pausing, her lips twitching. Finally, she responded, "We did find an unusual amount of atypical fleshy remains, but that size…"

"I thought maybe it was another Endbringer?" I tried, mind casting back to what Major Buchanan had said to me so long ago. Piggot's face stilled, and I hurried to modify my conjecture, "Or maybe just a baby one, a nascent one?"

Piggot nodded slowly, still angry, "Our analysis of the flesh did show some similarities with Leviathan's flesh," her eyes flashed, "Unfortunately, our entire research center is now at the bottom of the sinkhole you opened up in the middle of the city! All we have left to compare it to is the tissue samples we managed to take before you ruined everything."

"It was the only way," I said, even as I began to doubt myself. Yes, it was the only way I personally could stop Noelle but I had other options at the time. I could've returned to the surface, but by that point, I had lost my eye and my clone had mauled my leg. It would've been a difficult swim and I might not have made it, and if I didn't make it, Noelle would've still been down there.

"How did you activate the bomb?"

"I found an office, under the desk was the detonator, I also found the base schematics there, it led me right to where the bomb was located."

"Did you find anything else in the office?"

My mind flashed back, I remembered two names being in files I threw away but I couldn't remember the details at the moment.

"No," I replied after a moment.

"Fine. Why did you detonate the bomb?" Piggot asked, fury still etched into her face. I looked down at myself, taking in the baby smooth flesh on my arms and the two hands, both unmarked with calluses and scars.

"I couldn't make the swim back," I said, "one of Noelle's clones. She disfigured me," I touched my eye socket then, covering it with one hand, "removed my eye. Before that, she impaled my leg with my own axe. I never could've made the swim back, the only option was to kill her."

Piggot actually looked taken aback, as if only now being reminded of my injuries. I could understand it, I could barely remember them myself, after my leg and eye, all injuries had just been a blur of pain, and now even the scars were gone.

"Explain more about the clones."

"They were doppelgängers in the truest sense of the word. Evil doppelgängers of me. I saw three that she made after touching me for a couple of seconds. Two of them wanted to kill me, the third was suicidal."

"She created evil clones by touch? What were the limitations?"

"I'm not sure, maybe time? Maybe flesh, but she seemed to have a lot of them so I'm unsure if that is correct. She only needed to touch me for a moment and she had three clones, two of which were mirrors of myself. My skills, my memories, they both knew exactly how to fight me," I clenched my fists, "Every insecurity brought bare, every move countered. I barely survived the first one, and the next almost killed me too."

"And the third? You said it was suicidal?"

"Yes, she didn't attack me like the others," I paused, looking Piggot in the eyes to try and convey some of the gravity of what I was going to say next, "She asked me to kill her."

"I see," Piggot replied, but she didn't really see, I could see that in her eyes. She actually thought I had killed the clone, but I hadn't. She was still out there. If the explosion hadn't killed her. Just another person, even if she was a copy, that I had failed.

"Tell me about the base," Piggot interrupted my internal musings, "Did you see any indications on who's it was? What group it was connected too? Why they were keeping a citywide threat under containment?"

"No," I replied, thinking back, "I didn't see any real indications of who operated it, besides the fact that it was connected to the Endbringer shelter."

"Yes, yes," Piggot dismissed that, "Fortress construction has already disavowed any knowledge of that attachment, their president, Calvert, has promised full cooperation. We haven't been able to find any leads for that angle."

"There was an armory, it had space guns inside that shot lasers."

"You're certain?" Piggot asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Positive." Piggot wrote something, presumably about the lasers, down in her notebook.

"All right," Piggot said finally, after looking over her notes, "By the orders of the Chief Director," Piggot scowled in distaste, "We've been ordered to not disclose your part in the destruction of part of the downtown area. However, you must be aware that your hospitalization leaked immediately to the press, and combined with the detonation, connections have been drawn."

I didn't really know what to say so I just stayed quiet, letting Piggot continue, "You garnered a lot of goodwill from Leviathan's death so the public is unwilling to believe you had any willing part to play in the second disaster to befall my city, so I'd advise you keep it that way."

"Secondly," Piggot started to speak again when I didn't say anything, "I'd strongly advise you visit our HQ, for both a more detailed briefing, on both the situation and your little adventure. Furthermore, you might find it intelligent to meet with a psychiatrist to address your erratic behavior and risk-taking."

"You're not going to charge me with the deaths of all the people the bomb killed?"

"Would you like it if we did?" Piggot replied, with an expression that if it was up to her she would be absolutely doing such.

"No," Piggot answered her own question in the face of my silence, steely blue eyes staring it mine, "Your story corroborates on what we've been able to discover about the base from the remnants of its security network," Piggot paused a moment, disgust coloring her next words, "It is the opinion of the other directors that this 'Noelle' was an 'A' or more possible an 'S' class threat to the city. In light of that most would have done the same thing you did, if put in your position."

Piggot stood up from her rickety yellow hospital chair, "I'll keep in touch if circumstances change."

"Wait," I asked as Piggot made to leave. She paused and looked back at me, "What about my stuff? Does the hospital have it?"

"What stuff?" Piggot asked, eying me shrewdly.

"My belongings," I clarified, feeling the light material hospital shift I was wearing acutely.

"Most of what you carried was destroyed, presumably by the blast and inferno," Piggot told me, and I felt my heart sink. My beloved satchel, my pistol. The Key!

"Most?" I asked, a little tinge of hope tinging my question.

"Did I say 'most'?" Piggot replied, before grinning at me caustically, as if she actually enjoyed bringing me this small pain, "I meant, all of it was unrecoverable."

I turned away to look out the window. Away from Piggot. I heard Piggot stand quietly by the door for a moment before she turned the handle and walked out, the door slamming shut behind her.

End of Arc 2


	26. Chapter 21

Chapter 21:

The more I thought about it, the more furious I got. The kind of bone-deep fury that leaves you almost shaking in your seat with sheer rage.

If I took what Piggot said at face value that meant my stuff wasn't around anymore, which would be understandable. However, her tone and delivery implied that the PRT either had my stuff and was lying or that they didn't have it but it would never find my way back to me.

Which was strange in itself, why would they go out of there way to antagonize me? If she had just led with the fact that my possessions were destroyed by the fire, the blast, or et cetera than I wouldn't be this angry.

This didn't make much sense to me, especially when viewed with the expectation that they wanted to recruit me earlier. The simplest solution was that they didn't want to recruit me anymore, which was ludicrous because by all accounts I was a celebrity which was only associated with their polity in the most tenuous ways. So it must be something else.

None of that did anything to quell my fury. My fists were white-knuckled, clenched in fists of rage. I worked on relaxing, taking deep calming breaths. After a few moments, I relaxed just a tad and opened my hands.

My nails dug deep bloody furrows into my palms. Which was odd in itself since I never really let my nails grow since Yamatai, just further testament to the fact that I'd been in this hospital a while. The pain helped me focus, bringing clarity where rage brought confusion.

I buried my desire to immediately get up out of my bed, march down the corridor, and confront Piggot about my things. First off, I didn't know whether she actually had my things or whether she was actually telling the truth, which was possible since I was surprised that I survived the blast and burning at all. If I really had been engulfed in an inferno I kind of doubted my satchel survived. I suspected that even if that was the case, my pistol and the Key should've still been salvageable.

I would confront the PRT over this, and directly ask them whether they had my possessions. Depending on their answer, I would go from there.

I eyed the call button by my bedside. First things first, I really needed some proper clothes. All I had here was a hospital shift and literally nothing else, and the hospital shift was already drafty enough as it was. I eased myself out of bed, still thinking about asking for some proper clothes.

I bent down and touched my toes, ignoring how the room swam for a moment. I felt a little dizzy and reached out to grab the edge of the bed. Yeah, maybe, no exercise until I'm discharged.

I felt the rustle of fabric behind me, the soft sound of shoes readjusting on linoleum flooring. The snap-click of a switchblade. I dropped to one knee, rolling forward as I did so. In the process, my muscles, as atrophied as they were almost resulted in me faceplanting. I didn't know why I was so sluggish.

My sudden somersault led me straight into my steel bed, where it collapsed again with a clatter. The screech of metal on metal, and a muffled curse from behind me. I turned, a man in a tophat, with a white domino mask stood over me, in his hands was a switchblade. His face was maniac, tears in his eyes and an animalistic snarl on his lips.

"You killed her!" He snarled, stabbing at my prone form with the knife. He evidently didn't have much experience with knives since his strike was clearly telegraphed, all I needed to do was roll to the side, which I did.

"Why? He said you killed her! She was just trying to protect herself!"

What? I kicked out with a barefoot, hitting his knee, it didn't snap. I didn't have quite the strength I was used to, his leg did buckle, however, and he stumbled backward, allowing me to roll out from under the ruined bed frame and grab my sheet.

I held it in one hand like a matador faced with a bull.

"Who?" I asked. Personally, deescalating really wasn't my strong suit, I was more prone to escalation. However, desperate times changed everyone. For example, I was stuck in a room with no weapons, practically naked, and a man in a suit and tophat was trying to kill me.

"Noelle!" He screamed back and struck out wildly with the blade. I flung out the bedsheet as he stepped forward, the switchblade snagged on the sheet, tearing it as it did so, but that scant moment was all I needed. I lunged forward myself, punching the man right in the stomach and pushing both knife and sheet up into his face.

He flailed as his sight was obscured and I took the opportunity to knee him in the groin as hard as humanly possible. He screamed shrilly, and I hoped I managed to rupture something. I wasn't having a good day, so I wasn't inclined to play nice at all. My hand smashed upwards, traveling up his body and impacting his throat, he choked on air. My other hand curled around his thigh and pulled forward.

The combined motions, the backward push against his throat and the forward pull against his leg meant that he promptly lost his footing, falling backward with a crash. A moment later I was on top of him, as he tried to remove the sheet from his vision, the knife had fallen to the floor in the confusion and was out of both our reaches. He rolled, trying to get space to tear the sheet from his face.

Now I was below him but honestly, this was a better position. My legs wrapped around his throat and I tightened them, a flawless judo triangle choke. He flailed, attempting to fight me, but the combination of obscured sight and being unfamiliar with grappling did him in. A couple seconds later the lack of blood to his brain ended his struggles, and he collapsed bonelessly. I held the choke for another two seconds, tempted to keep holding it but in the end relaxed, letting blood reach his brain again.

I was heavily tempted to just kill him right then and there, just not release my chokehold, but that would've been unwise. I had to remember that I was at least nominally in civilization now, and that meant keeping to a certain amount of social standards, one of which was not murdering everyone that tried to kill me.

Even if it was completely justified, he was actually useful because he knew about Noelle, and that meant I could use him to corroborate my account of how dangerous Noelle was. Of course, he also seemed to be working with Noelle, which meant that he might not cooperate at all.

I eyed his knife, the gleaming metal seemed to call to me. I pulled myself free of the man. His fine suit was all ruffled now, and his tophat's felt had a large dent in it. I kicked it away lightly, scooping up the knife. Finders keepers. I flicked the switch on the side of the knife, letting the blade fall back down into the handle. Yep, I was so going to keep this.

I just clutched it in my hand as I made my way back to my bed. I clicked the call button. I needed someone to take away the body, get me some clothes, a tablet or something, and to either be discharged or they needed to get me a new bed.

As I waited, I tried out a few more stretches, accustomed myself to my new range of movement. That in itself was pretty similar to my old flexibility, just a little more so, since my muscles were not as developed. I was a little suspicious of why exactly my muscles were gone, a week didn't seem like enough time to atrophy.

I heard a knock on the door, and then a hesitant voice called out, "Miss, is everything all right?"

"Come in," I replied, not taking my eyes off the unconscious man on the floor. I was left to wonder how exactly he got inside the room. My eyes left his body then, flitting across the room until they landed on a cabinet, or really, a conspicuous lack of a cabinet. So wait, he was hiding in a cabinet? How strange.

The door creaked open, a young female nurse popped her head in, taking in the scene, the destroyed bed, the body on the floor, and me, standing over him clad in nothing but a wispy hospital gown. She was about as small and Panacea, if obviously much older, about thirty maybe, she had green eyes, frizzy red hair, and a deeply freckled face.

"W-where are your guards?" She asked. I frowned, guards? There had been guards earlier, but I thought those were Piggot's guards, not mine.

"Guards?" I said, "I have, or had guards outside my room?"

"Yes, Lady Croft," The nurse's head bobbles up and down as she nods several times in rapid succession. She appeared extremely nervous, "What happened?"

"As attempted assassination," I said blithely, "Don't worry, he should still be alive, mostly."

I prodded him with one of my toes, there was no reaction. Yeah, I hope I didn't hold on to long.

"All right, can you take care of this? Call the police or whatever you need to do?"

She nodded, still staring at the body in stupefied horror, "Also, can I get a new room, a change of clothes," I indicated my gown, "and maybe a tablet or a room with a TV or something?"

"Yes!" She squeaked out, finally tearing her eyes away from the body.

"Ma'am?" A new voice, a deep male voice asked from outside the room, "Is everything all right?"

The door creaked open, revealing two large grey body-armored PRT troopers. One had a flamethrower or something similar, except the whole setup was yellow instead of the metallic green of an ordinary flamethrower. The other PRT trooper had a rifle, not one that I recognized, but looked similar to an XM-8, which from my knowledge never entered formal production.

"No," I responded flatly, reminded again of my current problems with the PRT. Why didn't they respond when I was fighting tophat man? I made plenty of noise, they should've heard it.

"We were occupied with an incident report two halls down, in the psychiatric ward," One of the troopers offered, I got the sense he was faintly apologetic. As the door swung open more, I could see the moment they noticed the body since they both stiffened.

"Who is that?" The trooper with the rifle said, carefully not gesturing with his rifle. That at least showed he was trained, which was both good and bad. Good if the PRT was actually protecting people from the evils of the world. Bad if I had to go and raid the PRT to get back my belongings.

"Mr. Tophat?" I said, pointing at him with one foot, "He just tried to kill me, I think he can turn into dressers, or shapeshift, or something like that."

"Uh," the PRT trooper with the flamethrower said, "Stand clear, Ma'am."

I backed way up. Was he about to torch that guy? Wow. I thought my take on violence was extreme, they really did do things differently in America. My worries were unfounded when the PRT trooper pulled the trigger on his flamethrower and no flames came out. Only stringy yellow foam, like the grenade that Velocity used on Stormtiger.

"We'll look into this, Ma'am," The trooper with the rifle said looking out the window carefully, "We'd advise you find another room, it'll be a while until the team with a solvent gets here to extract him."

"That's what I wanted to do," I admitted, stepping around the troopers, who had advanced into my room. I carefully stepped into the hallway, making sure to hide my switchblade from the troopers as I did so. I had to keep it in my hand since the piece of cloth the hospital gave me could barely be considered clothing and had no pockets whatsoever. It wasn't like I could hide it anywhere else either if you know what I mean.

The nurse led me towards a new room, we passed another nurse on the way, who just raised a brow at my ruffled appearance. I shot a glare her way, she ducked her head away as her face coloured.


	27. Chapter 22

Chapter 22:

"We don't seem to have any of your original clothes in storage, but I asked around and managed to get you a few pieces from our out-patient supply, we still had some leftovers from the last church donations."

"That'll work fine," I tried a smile, it came out as more of a grimace. The petite redhead nurse blushed, handing me a pile of loose clothing. I flicked through them, there was a new package of knickers, and a bra, as well as a pair of short shorts, along with a floral themed top. A pair of faintly weathered red sneakers, which I suspected were actually a mans, combined with rough white woolen socks completed the ensemble.

It was a poor choice, but it was all I had, "and the tablet? Something to connect with the internet?"

The nurse held out a phone, "You can use mine, I don't really need to check it when I'm on duty anyway," she looked away, and mumbled, "it's the least I could do."

Her head snapped up a moment later and she fixed me with a stern glare, or what I think she thought was a stern glare, "Don't break it! I do need it back."

"Sure, and thanks!" I replied smiling. She had an old keypad smartphone, like the Blackberry that was prevalent in the years before Apple cornered the market with their iPhones. It was in a hot pink case, I stepped away from the door where she had handed me my new things and took in the new room. It was much smaller and much more secure, there were no windows, just a steel hospital bed, a small loo, closed off by a curtain, and weak fluorescent lights.

"I'll work on getting you discharged as soon as possible," The nurse added as she elbowed past the burly PRT troopers, who looked quite uncomfortable. I made sure to shoot them a glare, enjoying the small stiffening of their shoulders.

Here's the thing. They were evidently assigned to guard me. By all indications, I was a significant person of interest, who had been pressured about being a target already. I hadn't played ball and had likely made the PRT's lives more difficult with my actions. However, they left their posts, and in the time they were gone someone tried to assassinate me. Coincidence? Maybe.

The worst possible scenario that I could think of was that the PRT was arranging hits, the nazis, dresser shapeshifter, and probably more in the future to try and drive me into their arms. It might even have worked too if it wasn't for Director Piggot flaunting that my possessions were destroyed in my face.

That actually brought up another point. By all indications the PRT wanted me, but what if Director Piggot didn't? What if the whole reason she antagonized me was that the PRT wanted me but Piggot was trying to sabotage that process? Hmm, I shook my head, that seemed unlikely.

I pulled off my hospital gown, after triple checking the door was locked and looked down at my body properly. Most of my scars were faded or outright missing, leaving baby smooth skin behind. One of the only exceptions was a long horizontal cut right above my diaphragm, and the starburst shaped scar left by the rebar on Yamatai.

The muscle definition on my stomach and upper legs were gone, and my breasts were even smaller than before. If that was even possible. I scowled, before shaking my head, the size of my breasts wasn't even important. More importantly, was how long it would take to get all my muscles back. Thankfully, my body type was mesomorph, which meant that I was naturally more predisposed to develop strength, even for a female. I estimated about a month of daily work before I would be pushing towards peak strength, even faster if I have my berries…

My eyes widened. The berries! My berries! I had no berries! What new betrayal! There was no word in Mayan, Greek, or English for this treachery! A wave of slow deep anger stirred with me. It wasn't like the rabid fury of earlier, no this was cold anger, an anger that wouldn't be quenched by time or distraction.

First things first, when I was discharged I was walking my way down to the PRT HQ and demanding that they either give my stuff back or… or else. Dark thoughts swam in my mind, and I suddenly realized I was standing in the buff glowering at a wall, clothes at my feet.

I swiftly leaned down and snatched up my undergarments, sliding them on. I had wasted enough time already with this whole clothing thing. The bra was loose, and so were the knickers, but the short shorts fit fine and kept my knickers up. The top was a little loose, probably made with a larger woman in mind, but it would have to suffice for now.

I slid on the socks and shoes, taking care to tie the sneaker's laces for climbing. A simple two-stage shoelace knot should work fine, it wasn't like I would need anything more specialized in a city. I pursed my lips as I considered the fate of my axes, both were gone now, one had been ruined in the fight with Leviathan and the other lost in my fight against the third clone and Noelle.

I hopped onto my bed after I was done with my laces, kicking my feet slightly to test out the range of movement, a little stiff, these shoes were evidently not too used despite appearing a little worn. They still needed a lot of breaking in, I foresaw a blister or two in my future. I laid back on the bed, eyeing the locked door as I did so.

Almost as an after-thought, I tried to put my switchblade in my new pocket. It went in about two centimeters and stopped, I pushed a little harder, there was the sound of tearing fabric and the knife pushed down. I felt the cool metal against the skin of my right thigh. Of course, there were no pockets, why would I expect something different? I guess my usual practical clothes had spoiled me.

I leveraged the knife in my other pocket sideways, it was a tight awkward fit. I was half worried about accidentally triggering the switchblade but decided to just leave it that way. Better than carrying it in my pocket the whole time.

That done I pulled out the phone, it wasn't password-protected so I just immediately went for the internet, barely stopping to check that the phone was connected to the hospital Wi-Fi first so that the nurse wouldn't accumulate any data charges.

I searched 'Google' in the default browser. There was no result, instead, various similar results popped up but the default was a 'Bing' search engine, which I vaguely recalled trying to compete with Google at some point. Odd that even when I searched on their search engine Google wouldn't be a result.

I flexed my wrist, pulling the phone in closer and checked the date, both to see if Piggot was telling the truth and to quiet another suspicion. As the slow page loaded, I almost dropped the phone as I noticed the year and date. A moment later I did, the phone dropping from my near-catatonic fingers.

The date was May 31st, which had already set my hackles rising, it had been midsummer when I entered Paititi. The year, however, was the most damning. It was 2011. A whole two years before Yamatai.

With shaking fingers I scooped up the phone, searching first for 'Lara Croft'. There was a lot of results, all dated from the last two weeks, all concerned Leviathan. None spoke of Yamatai or anything like that. All of the dates on the newspapers were 2011.

I searched for Lord Richard Croft, my father, died in 2003, and his death was a big deal in the world. There were no headlines for the death of Lord Richard Croft. The search engine instead led me to a Wikipedia look-alike called TreeofKnowledge. It spoke of a Lord Croft that died childless in 1914. Croft Manor didn't exist either, the searches brought up another Croft Manor but not my childhood home.

Almost on a whispered wind, my thoughts turned to the words of Trinity. My unspoken desire to make it so my father never died. Well, he couldn't really die if he never existed, could he? No, I shoved those thoughts down ruthlessly. That didn't make sense if I rewound time I wouldn't go to the time before Yamatai, when I was lost and without purpose. Instead, I would've gone back to the time before my father died, and I would stop it. It just didn't make sense.

Or I would've unmade Trinity, made it so they never existed, and then they would've never been able to kill my father. I forced down the thoughts that threatened to arise that even then I wouldn't have my father back. Already by that time my father and mother were growing distant, he constantly put his work before my mother and me, and so even if he lived it was doubtful that he would've been the father I believe he could've been. It didn't stop me from wanting to believe though.

I turned the phone back towards me, wiping away some dust that got in my eyes as I did so. So much dust. I entered 'endbringers' into the search bar. I watched in horror as the results piled up, first ten, then a hundred, a hundred thousand, into the millions. I clicked on an article, it spoke of sunny Canberra, turned into a desolate madhouse by a monster called the Simurgh. I read about the oilfields of Iran, irradiated by a stone abomination called Behemoth.

I read of Leviathan, and his sinking of Madrid and the Iberian peninsula, his sinking of Canadian Newfoundland, Kyushu, Cuba and more. The Endbringers were absolute monsters, more than Trinity could ever dream of being. At least Trinity wanted to save some humans, the Endbringers apparently wanted to end everything. Destruction upon destruction. Death upon death.

Something thrummed deep inside, an urge, and I could almost feel the Key of Chak Chel in my hand. Sliding through feathers and porcelain flesh, through rocky exterior and fiery magma. The shiver of anticipation, a rising dream.

My eyes fluttered and I snapped to awareness, my fingers felt hot. I looked at them, they appeared normal. For all that I could almost feel the Key, it was nowhere in sight. Which, of course, made sense, it was with all my other destroyed or stolen possessions.

My fingers glided over the keys, searching up the 'Yangban'. Chinese imperial nationalists with a kidnapping fetish. I searched for Noelle, no results. I searched for evil clones, a result popped up for a website called PHO, it led me to a forum where it talked about the possibility of evil clones from someone called 'Blasto'. It didn't appear to be what I was looking for.

I cast my mind back, trying to remember all the groups that were about, 'nazis' brought up stuff about Europe and World War II, and stuff about a Gesellschaft in Germany and European Union. 'Nazis Brockton Bay' led me back to the forum and information on a gang of Neo-Nazis operating out of the Brockton Bay area. Apparently, their leader Kaiser was dead, and his second, Kreig was also dead. I almost smiled, I remembered Kreig, I remembered his body more so, ruined and destroyed.

Shaking my head to dispel those thoughts, I searched 'powers'. Immediately, results popped up millions upon millions. I refined my search 'where do powers come from' and got dozens of academic articles. I took a moment to

skim one by a Dr. Manton, it basically said who knows, we certainly don't. It might be related to 'Scion'. This, of course, led me to search for 'Scion' myself.

I saw a blurry picture of a nude golden metallic man at the prow of a boat, staring off into space forlorn. I clicked on the thumbnail, bringing up an article on his history. He was the first recorded example of someone with powers, appearing in May 1982. I read on, for a long time he didn't do anything but float around, being golden, until one day he started to save people, animals, things, children's toys, and had been doing that non-stop since. A true hero, according to the article.

I was startled by a sudden knock on the door, someone tried the doorknob, it was locked, "Hello, Miss Croft? It's Dr. Sinclair, the doctor that attended you earlier? I'm here to take you to conduct some tests before discharging."

Finally. I wasn't keen on staying here a moment longer.

**AN: All right, this'll be the last chapter in the hospital (for now) and is the real beginning point for the next arc, which involves falling, formal wear, and our favorite guests to Brockton Bay. You can guess the ones, with the date and all.**


	28. Chapter 23

Chapter 23:

This time when I exited the hospital I had even fewer possessions than I did the first time. Albeit, it was also a different hospital than last time. Before in the aftermath of killing Leviathan, I had my weapons: bow, axe, knife, and pistol. This time all I had was a cheap switchblade. It was really cheap, plastic mixed with metal and would probably not even last when used with proper violence.

To someone that usually ended up either making her own weapons or augmenting the weapons she had, I was disappointed but not afraid. After all, I had nothing after the shipwreck so many years ago, and I lived through that. I experienced an involuntary tightening of my lips. A long forgotten pain coursed through me. I recalled the taste of blood and the texture of cartilage. Yes, while I had survived without any weapons initially. It sure would've been nice to have some later. I didn't even remember the name of my first kill, but I was glad he was dead.

I ignored the small part of my brain that insisted these situations were not alike at all. For one, on Yamatai, nobody knew I was there until I had a weapon. Even afterward, they didn't really care too much about me before I started to kill them en mass and was labeled 'The Outsider'. Here, I had no doubt that my release from the hospital would be broadcast all over the news. Every news pundit and website would be eager to show the latest scoop, the latest photographs of a recovering celebrity. A woman who killed the unkillable.

Which was why I was where I was right now. Sneaking out of the hospital's loading dock, where they received large crates of medical supplies and other items vital for the functioning of a large institution. It was laughably easy to sneak by my PRT guards, I simply smashed a hole in the wall.

Which was really rather easy, easier than it sounded since it was just two-by-fours, pink drywall, and plaster. The guards were really suspicious after the first sounds of unholy smashing. I just yelled I was all right and when they tried to push the issue, I _really _yelled at them. They were notably alarmed after that, but it wasn't like I was an amateur at smashing walls so it only needed a few good hits and I was free to squeeze my way through into the adjoining room.

Thankfully, the next room was unoccupied. I returned to my old room and left my borrowed phone on the bed before turning around and squeezing through the hole again. Part of my intended disguise relied, in part, on not appearing to be a patient so I had to acquire some scrubs.

Luckily, I had snagged some when undergoing 'mandatory' tests with Dr. Sinclair early this afternoon. She couldn't keep track of me the whole time, and my fingers were always rather nimble. I had just needed an opportunity. I had also wanted to grab a knife or something from a cafeteria but they only had plastic flatware, so I didn't bother.

Once in the other room, I just pulled my pilfered pink nurse scrubs over my civilian clothes, opened the door, turning away from the PRT troopers as I did, and walked down the hallway. From there all I had to do was follow the pictographs at the end of the halls down to a loading bay. That was relatively simple, I just followed the directions to the first floor, taking care to not be caught in an elevator, opting for the stairs instead.

On the way, I passed two nurses speaking about an incident in the psych ward, something about an erroneous internal report of a 'trigger', but they ignored me. After all, I looked normal enough, and I didn't mess up that much on wearing the scrubs. All straps and folds in the right place, the only thing I lacked was a name tag, which didn't stand out too much on first glances. In no time at all, I was at the hospital's loading docks and the open city awaited me. Grinning I skipped down the steps, red sneakers scuffing on the worn cement.

I wasted no time after clearing the parking lot with pulling my scrubs off and leaving the premises. Now was the time to actually find what was going on with the PRT and their thieving ways. I will admit that I gave some thought to actually infiltrating the PRT's HQ and checking in person to see if they had my stuff.

I dismissed that idea for several reasons. First off, the PRT HQ most likely worked in a similar manner to a police station which meant that I would find it difficult to sneak in undetected. Then even if I attempted to sneak in, stealth in a Peruvian jungle or temperate rainforest are completely different beasts compared to actually sneaking around an urban office building. I could sneak through the vents, but any half-decent building that called itself secure would be unlikely to have vents that were transversable.

I kind of doubted that there would be any security measures in a similar vein to what was found in movies. As in lasers, pressure plates, and booby traps, but I also kind of doubt there would be a complete dearth of security measures either. Especially, in a world where superpowers were apparently a common facet of society.

Hence, since I couldn't go into the vents I would need to enter some other way, a way where there would probably be guards. Which meant that I would have to incapacitate them, and which they would probably seek to subdue me. As much as I loved my possessions I was unwilling to just kill a normal person just doing their job.

I shook my head, stopping at a bus stop. I eyed the bus schedule and route before continuing on. I had no money, so I couldn't ride a bus unless it was free. The sign said to either have your bus pass ready or fare in hand for the bus driver.

I had killed normal people in the past, but that didn't mean I liked it. Or more importantly, it wasn't something I should do when other options exist. I buried the sensation that thinking about bloody violence sent a little thrill through me, making me shiver.

Musing on this, I continued walking, making my way from Brockton Memorial Hospital towards the downtown area. According to the bus map I was somewhere south of downtown, and so I needed to go north, cutting through a higher class residential area as I did so.

However, before I entered the residential area I had to pass through the neighborhood surrounding the hospital, which was middle to low class. A few scattered medical buildings were located around amidst residential buildings. I wondered how that worked out, I'd imagine the constant ambulances would be rather annoying.

The flood damage extended all the way out here. Streaks of grime covered the sides of some buildings, not too high, up to one and a half meters in places, evidence of the large waves. There was also evidence of looting, doors broken in, but comparably less than I expected. This was probably due to the police, who would've been guarding the hospital in the days following the disaster. I could see that most of the broken doors were covered in yellow crime scene tape, showing that the police had enough people to at least stop by and check the looted houses out.

"Hey!" I heard a muttered cry, and stepped backward, away from a disheveled man that barreled out from the side of a house. A chain-link fence door creaked behind him, a rusty chain in desperate need of maintenance kept it from swinging open all the way. The man wore a pristine child's 'My Little Pony' backpack. It clashed awfully with his unwashed appearance and tattered brown clothing.

I raised an eyebrow, eyes scanning over him. A large kitchen knife was clutched in his hands, "Yer money or your life!" he slurred. A streak of some kind of liquid dribbled from his mouth. He reeked of alcohol, and the white's of his dark eyes were bloodshot.

I looked him over, noting that he walked with a slight limp, and smirked slightly at him.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow before stepping sideways quickly, dodging under his flailing knife, and gently, oh so gently slapped his hand in just the right spot. He dropped his knife with a muttered curse.

As he scrambled on the ground for his weapon I continued on, not heeding his shouts to stop or his shouts of what he was going to do when he caught me. Soon his footsteps faltered and died away as I easily outpaced him. Despite my lack of conditioning, outpacing a would-be mugger was child's play.

About another four minutes walk brought me into the richer residential areas. Even here it looked like there had been some violence and looting, but it had been more controlled. Some doors were scuffed but most weren't broken, and now and then I caught a flutter of movement as someone watched from a window. There was also some vehicles on these roads, enough that I wasn't expecting a repeat mugging attempt.

It took upwards of twenty minutes to climb through the new residential area, which turned out to be mostly a hill, which I learned was called 'Captain's Hill' from a conveniently placed informational sign at its small summit. This hike was a bit more taxing for my stamina, I felt a few faint beads of perspiration on my forehead. It wasn't helped at all by the balmy spring weather. The descent was much quicker, and I picked up speed quickly leaving the residential area and entering Brockton Bay's actual downtown.

My easy stroll stopped as I spotted a shadow on the side of the building that I was approaching, a tall figure with wavy hair. I stopped, looking at the silhouette made by the street light. After a moment I continued, reaching the edge of the building in a few more steps.

Standing in an empty alleyway, flanked by two red brick walls was the insect person. I distinctly remembered her from the fight with Leviathan. Her hands were empty but I spotted a small pouch on her back. Her hands and body were covered in grey cloth, and she wore an insect-like grey mask with artfully added amber swimming goggles in place of the mask's eyes.

Her costume looked intimidating, nice use of colors and shadow to create fear, but I wasn't intimidated by the overall notion of a giant bug. I'd encountered some nasty real ones. Even gathered venomous and poisonous insects and spiders in various places around the world.

What was actually intimidating was the swarm, which filled the alleyway, twitching as if it was not half-a-million small animals, but one enormous creature breathing. As I stepped before the entrance she spoke, her voice was dead, emotionally empty, which created a strange effect with the underlying chittering and skittering of the insects around me.

"Lady Croft," She all but whispered, not turning her head or eyes to track me. I batted at a mosquito that buzzed around my ear.

"Can I help you?" I asked, sorely wishing that I had a better weapon than a single junky switchblade. As it was I palmed it, jerkily pulling it from my shorts, but not popping the blade.

"Yes. You can," the insect girl replied, the insects behind her stirring and shifting, I spotted flashes of yellow and orange, large hornets crawling out and around her hair. I most noticeably did not flinch, but I did entertain in my mind's eye what exactly would happen to me if those attacked.

She tilted her head, seeming to track me with her real eyes for the first time. For such a human gesture it was horrifyingly unnatural. The insects darted out, following each other in long tendrils, almost like pedipalps constantly tasting at the walls and surroundings.

"I know things that are being hidden from you. About you," she said, the swarm augmenting her speech, the sound of chitin shifting all at once, wings beating to form words. The swarm behind her shifted, "And I need something in return."


	29. Chapter 24

Chapter 24:

What an introduction. No pleasantries, no build-up, just right to the point. I regarded insect-girl carefully, she stood absolutely still, none of the minute ticks that a human at rest makes. Of course, some fidgeting could be concealed by the grey bodysuit she wore and the elaborate mask, but not all.

I was reminded of a robot really. Just standing there and awaiting some kind of input.

I replied, "Who exactly are you?"

Insect-girl tilted her head just a fraction, possibly in puzzlement, possibly in intrigue.

"The PRT decided to call me Skitter," She said, a little more of the human underneath, speaking over the chorus of insects. Still, it was an interesting choice in words, 'the PRT decided' not her. That in itself meant something, either she was not aligned with them, or they were in charge of naming all superhumans, which was doubtful.

"Decided?" I asked, narrowing my gaze. Still, my thoughts were whirling. She knew something that had been hidden from me and was offering to tell me. The question was, should I trust her? Nominally, the PRT could be considered the government, and in that capacity would be working towards the good of the people.

'Skitter' made a noise in the back of her throat, "Just call me Skitter."

I raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue with my hand. My other hand still rested over my switchblade.

"The PRT are lying when they said they had your belongings," Skitter said, insects spiraling outwards, flashes of black and yellow around her.

"Are they?" I asked, quite skeptical. Piggot really seemed to imply that the PRT had them.

"They're trying to influence you, get you under their thumb," Skitter spoke, arms twitching slightly, "You killed Leviathan, they _need _you."

"And?" I asked, "How does that lead to you knowing they don't have my stuff?"

"I was there when downtown exploded," She said simply. I stilled, she knew then that I was involved somehow. Then I about facepalmed, of course she knew, she had also somehow figured out what Piggot said to me, without even being there.

I stepped closer to Skitter, sparing just a small glance at the roiling insects.

"Tell me what you know," I commanded.

"I have… a source that told me the PRT is making contingency plans about you, what they need to do in case you don't join voluntarily. Ta-my source said that they called in Alexandria even."

Alexandria? I vaguely recalled one of the press members asking me about an Alexandria. That wasn't what I was interested in, "I meant, tell me where my things are, who has them?"

"Coil."

Coil? I was drawing a blank.

"Who or perhaps what is Coil?"

"They think he's only a small villain, that he just controls some mercenaries, but he's really trying to take over the city," Skitter replied. Her answer a dull monotone. Despite that, I got a sensation of intense interest or attention from her.

"How did he get to me before the PRT?" I asked.

"He didn't," Skitter replied, "That's why the PRT is being so obtuse, he stole your belongings from them."

I see. I clenched my fists. Anger bubbling inside me. If what Skitter was saying was true, which may or may not be possible, then Coil had my things. Left unsaid that whoever had my possessions thought they would be a good way to manipulate me. It was also possible that the PRT had fully intended to give me back my things but then Coil stole them. However, with the knowledge that they were making contingency plans, what was more likely was that they also intended to use it as leverage.

"How do I know that you're telling the truth?" I asked, trying to stare straight into Skitter's amber yellow lenses. She turned her head away.

"You'll have to trust me." She eventually replied, a little bit of genuine anger leaking into her voice.

"And you're not working with the PRT?" I asked, "Trying to set me against this 'Coil'?"

"No!" She vehemently denied, "Coil is evil! He kidnapped the mayor's niece!"

Skitter stilled, and I cocked my head, looking at her, "So you want me to go after Coil because he kidnapped someone? Or because he's blackmailing the mayor?"

This made me suspicious. However, if Coil really had kidnapped someone, I wasn't that opposed to going after him, especially if the child was a minor, which 'mayor's niece' kind of implied.

"He's not," Skitter said, pausing a moment, "This is what I wanted your help with, Dinah Alcott, the mayor's niece has powers, she can tell the future."

"Coil kidnapped her for her…" I trailed off, as I recalled a little note. The words "DA" written in childlike scrawl along with the words 'HELP ME'. That's it, there was no way I wasn't going to save this girl.

"Coil wouldn't happen to have subterranean bases would he?" I asked mildly, slowing filling with sudden tension. My muscles ached to move, I ached to move, to track down Coil, kill him and… my mind flashed to images of blood and gore. A beating heart, a bloody knife, the taste of raw flesh in my mouth. I violently spasmed, which in turn caused Skitter to twitch. The insects buzzed angrily, responding to her startlement.

"He does, doesn't he?" I muttered to myself, looking at her for confirmation.

Skitter gave me a cautious nod, before speaking, "I only met him once, and he brought us down into one of the Endbringer shelters, a different one than the one you destroyed."

"Us?" I fixated on her slip. Before she said that she didn't work for the PRT but I had neglected to think of who exactly she had been working with. As well as who exactly this source she spoke of was.

Skitter clenched her fists herself, "The Undersiders, I was going to turn them in. I'm not a villain."

So that would be why the PRT got to name her. She was against them. The Undersiders must be a team of villains.

"You worked with them?" I said, stepping forward just a tad, not much that it really should be visible.

"Yes! But I was trying to help! I wanted to play double agent, turn them into the PRT!"

I considered. She seemed pretty incensed about this, even while slipping in and out of monotone half-insect voice when she spoke.

"Why didn't you?" I asked, still trying to get a handle on how she ticked.

"I tried," Her voice was frustrated, angry, "Nobody would listen, Armsmaster tried to strong-arm me into the Wards, even when he knew what I was doing! Even after I helped you, killing Leviathan!"

I had no words for that. It was just stupid, why? The same as directly antagonizing me, again and again, was stupid. By all indications, Leviathan had been unkillable up to this point, destroying tens of millions with his attacks. Yes, two people unaffiliated with the PRT had managed to kill him, tarnishing the reputation of the government.

However, it didn't really make sense to not try the long sell. They could've worked at me over time, offering incentive after incentive until I joined. They should've done the same for Skitter. It made no sense, even if we did join. The current way they were going about it just made sure that we'd be resentful and might even actively work to undermine the institution.

All this wasn't even bringing into account Armsmaster. What was his problem? Why wasn't the PRT touting him as the perfect poster child? After all his nano-halberd was used in the penultimate strike against the Endbringer. Why wasn't the PRT using that?

"All right," I said, scowling, "Provided I believe you, who exactly is the source you talked about earlier? I want to meet them."


	30. Interlude 6

**Interlude: The (Mona) Lisa**

"Tattletale?" Taylor's voice, emanated from the cheap silver phone Tattletale was holding. She allowed her power to work for just a moment, cautious about what exactly Taylor was calling about.

_Is calling from a payphone. Is not under duress. Wants to talk to you._

Well yes, power, Tattletale thought a little snidely, exactly what I needed to know. Now give me something more interesting.

_Taylor is distressed, worried. Taylor is with a villain. Taylor is with a hero. Taylor is afraid._

That was more useful, even if it was worrisome. Tattletale finally responded, cognizant of the second long pause she had uncustomarily allowed when answering the phone. Ordinarily, she would try to play the psychic and answer with the person's name even before they spoke. However, she honestly hadn't expected Taylor to call for a few more days.

"How can I help you? Skitter? You kind of ran out on us back there with Legend and Armsmaster," Tattletale deliberately let a little bit of amusement into her voice, to show that she wasn't really bothered by Taylor's actions. She understood it, but that didn't mean she had really forgiven Taylor for it. The pause after she spoke gave her plenty of information.

_Is slightly calmer, expected you to be mad. Is still afraid. Is afraid of the person next to her. Is afraid of a hero, is afraid of a villain. Is afraid of a murderer._

The real question was, who exactly was Taylor with? Her power seemed to suggest that it was both a hero and villain or a hero that was really a villain. Or perhaps vice versa. Tattletale's mind snapped to Armsmaster for a moment but disregarded it a second later.

_Not Armsmaster._

"The information you gave me on Coil? I found someone that might be able to help us," Taylor responded, still with a tinge of fear.

_Croft. Croft is both hero and villain._

Tattletale's power grasped the identity, pulling on it like a child with a pacifier. What an odd analogy, Tattletale's brow twisted as she extrapolated the rest of Taylor's request.

_Croft wants to meet._

"And she wants to meet?" Tattletale's mind leaped to what Coil told her. Warning her away from Croft about a week ago. That had been right after her own phone call to Croft, which hadn't been picked up and she didn't really know why yet. Her power had inferred that it had something to do with Coil's base exploding and taking out a chunk of downtown. Those two things were connected somehow, Tattletale pulled a yellow sticky pad towards her even as Taylor replied.

"Yes, she wants to meet you in person."

"That I can do," was Tattletale's easy reply even as her mind and power raced.

_Croft doesn't know about the phone call. Croft doesn't know who I am. Croft will be armed._

"How about somewhere private?" Tattletale asked. If they met anywhere public then the paparazzi would no doubt photograph them, and from there it would be no small feat for the PRT's thinkers to discover their identities. Of course, they could also meet in person, but then Tattletale would have to take one of Rachel's dogs as transportation, which meant bringing Rachel.

Tattletale spared a moment, reminded of Rachel, their team had always been fragile but with Brian's death, it was even more so. Tattletale had difficulty controlling Rachel before Brian's death against Leviathan, and it would be even worse since Rachel kind of saw herself as the new alpha.

Nevermind the fact that scientific theory was debunked, Rachel seemed to function off dominance theory and applied it to her canines, which seemed recipient enough to it. Tattletale really thought that was mostly from being bred to understand humans.

"The ferry?" Taylor's response was quick. She was really just grasping for the nearest thing in her memory that was both a significant landmark and also familiar enough for her to stomach. Tattletale hmmed.

"You know, the ferry didn't actually survive Leviathan?" she noted casually, taking some delight in the flicker of shock that her power picked up on. The slight hitch of breath, the light exhale. The next moment she ruthlessly squashed that feeling down, it wasn't a good idea to play such games with Taylor, she was delicate enough as it was.

Being maligned by your hero after systematic abuse for most of your life will do that. Especially when Armsmaster brought Legend in to try and meditate, only for Alexandria to butt in and make a real mess of things.

She'd been pressured but hadn't folded. She would have if Tattletale hadn't caused a scene with Regent that distracted them enough that Legend was able to get Taylor away from his colleagues. She'd considered dropping the bomb about Armsmaster's sabotage, but she felt that would still be useful in the future.

"The Albertson Pier mostly survived," Tattletale offered, "we can meet in civvies in…" she checked the clock on her phone, "forty minutes?"

"The south end?" Taylor asked, strength and confidence flowing back into her voice with Tattletale's quick acceptance.

"That would be perfect," Tattletale responded after a moment, spending just a moment longer on the necessary pleasantries before hanging up. The pier was mostly empty at this time of day. Especially the south end which still needed to be cleaned up. The piles of debris and garbage were enormous. Even with all the funds gifted to the city, it just lacked the manpower necessary. One thing was for sure, the Dockworker's Union had steady work for the first time in nearly a decade.

That had upset a lot of plans, especially Coil's and the Archer's Bridge Merchants. She had been privy to one of Coil's initial planning sessions but there was no way that would be carried out, with the splintering of the Travelers after the death of the monster under Coil's base last week.

That still puzzled her actually. Coil had kept a tight grip on all the videos of his base but a few things were clear. Croft had somehow entered Coil's base, finding some way that Coil had discounted, and which her power had no luck in deciphering.

Honestly, its answer was absurd.

_She swam._

Tattletale shook her head, that was completely ludicrous. By all indications and the PRT's best analysis, Croft was a powerful combat thinker with a tinker subspeciality in primitive technology. Which didn't really lend itself to acts of superhuman diving ability. Yes, she was apparently able to survive debilitating injuries by eating berries, but that in no way explained super diving or super strength.

Tattletale recalled the video of one of Coil's mercenaries that tried one of the berries stolen from Croft. _Poison, some of the most unorthodox neurotoxins known. All condensed in a little biological capsule._

According to her analysis, they didn't really have any healing ability at all, which Panacea had corroborated. Tattletale grabbed her coat, taking a moment to fix her messy blonde hair and add just a little eyeliner before heading out of the Undersider's lair to head downtown. She knew from previous experience that if she took the route down Lincoln Street that nobody would bother her. The majority of the would be muggers and rapists were over on Racket Street's junction with Seventh Avenue, the alleyways there perfect for the more nasty types. Lincoln street was actually patrolled by the BBPD, even now, since it was the main route into the city from the highway.

Her thoughts returned to the berries as she walked. She wasn't sure how Croft had built up resistance, but somehow she had. Allowing her to make use of the dulled pain response, clotting measures, and heightened awareness that the berries offered. It was probably doing absolute hell to her liver, and she was lucky that Panacea hadn't removed all tolerance for the superdrug, otherwise she probably would've died of an overdose somewhere.

That being said, Tattletale allowed her power to go over what she knew of Croft. _Not from around here. Foreign. British. Is an alien._

Tattletale's eye twitched, she wasn't sure why her power liked to fixate on the idea that Croft was an alien, but she forced it away, letting it wander down another path instead. She focused on the image in her head of her first glance at Croft, back in the Leviathan fight.

_Genuine Mayan clothing. Ceremonial mask, stained by blood, used in sacrificial ritual. Splatter indicates impacted by arterial spray periodically, cleaned with a wet rag. Real gold, real feathers. Was not hers, someone else was supposed to wear it._

Tattletale waited at the south end of Anderson's Pier for Taylor and Croft to appear. In truth, it had taken her less than twenty minutes to make her way down to the spot. She felt that she needed the time, both to scope out the area and to prepare herself for meeting a dangerous individual.

She was under no illusions that this was a person that she could manipulate easily. Well, she could probably, but it would be exceedingly dangerous to get caught doing so. After all, this woman slew Leviathan, where everyone else, including Eidolon and Legend, had failed. I mean even Scion had failed to kill Leviathan and he was regarded as the greatest hero that was.

Tattletale rubbed her temples slightly, just thinking about Scion always gave her a headache, just another one of his powers, probably the same one that seemed to mess with technology.

The truth of the matter was that she needed to manipulate Croft. Somehow she needed to make Croft kill Coil, preferably without destroying his bases and leave enough of his stuff that she could live comfortably in style for the rest of her life. Tattletale believed that if she earnestly made a run for it, she could probably escape him somehow. This was really a matter of pride to her know. She needed to defeat Coil. Nay, not just defeat him, destroy him, kill him.

Anyway, for all her planning to come to fruition that meant that the setting needed to be perfect. Her clothing helped make her seem innocent, just another college-aged girl, unfairly manipulated into working for a bad man. The eyeliner would make her look younger, and she knew her freckles made her look younger than she was.

The area around her was dangerous looking without actually looking dangerous. Hopefully, making Croft subliminally worried about her, being out alone in such a place. Thankfully, it only looked dangerous and wasn't actually. Just in case Tattletale did have her little 38. Special strapped to her side, under her jean jacket.

She hadn't spotted any tails from Coil that she had to slip away from, but that didn't mean that they weren't around somewhere. She scanned the rooftops, letting her power wash over them.

_Building undisturbed. Unstable, water built up in walls._

She turned then, finishing her inspection as two figures appeared at the end of the pier, stepping around a shattered piece of a small fishing boat. One was tall, stringy, with a slight runner's gait. Her curly black hair swirling a little in the heady sea wind. She wore a tattered threadbare brown hoodie over her gray costume. Tattletale grimaced a little, realizing that she had effectively forced Taylor to unmask to Croft by asking her to come in civvies.

Her eyes panned over to Croft, immediately her power surged forth, examining the woman in front of her even as she noted the surface details herself.

_Walks with a hunter's gait. Has stalked animals before. Has hunted predators. Is looking for snipers. Spotted me before I did. Can smell me from here. She sees the sprain I have on my left foot. Has switchblade in front pocket._

Well, the PRT wasn't really lying when they said she was observant.

She had brown eyes and short cut brown hair, a pixie cut really, but Tattletale knew that was because of the burns that she entered into the hospital with.

_Covered in old wounds. Not all removed by Panacea. Metal pole through the torso, an old injury, she still moves in anticipation of the pain bothering her. Fingers are twitching, she wishes she was holding a weapon. Familiar with weapons. Really familiar with weapons. Has killed with knives before, has killed with guns, has killed with bow, has killed with rock, has killed someone with a strip of cloth. By drowning. By ritual sacrifice._

Tattletale forced her gorge and rising alarm down. She had observed Croft had killed before but this was like looking at a serial killer.

_Intimately familiar with the weaknesses of the human body. Has killed often enough that she is not fazed by the thought. Enjoys blood, enjoys the feel of blood. Enjoys killing. It arouses her._

That was not where Tattletale wanted her thoughts to go, as disturbing as that information was.

"Hi!" She called out, waving her arms peppily at Taylor and Croft.

Taylor's arm rose up in reaction, halfway to a wave before she aborted the motion, looking around uncomfortably. Her hoodie shifted slightly, Tattletale's power choosing that moment to inform her of just how many hornets rested just under the fabric. Croft did not react, just slowly blinking her eyes, looking over her body.

She was reminded of a lizard in some ways, or perhaps maybe more like a tiger. Poised to strike, it knows you're there, but it doesn't really care what you know. It could kill you in a moment even if you tried your best to stop it. Tattletale very carefully didn't let her hand drift towards her pistol.

"Tattletale," Taylor spoke stiffly, not meeting her eyes. A moment later she introduced her to Croft, "She's with the Undersiders."

"Undersiders?" Croft spoke softly, dark brown eyes intensely staring into hers, "I take it she's your informant?"

_Doesn't know the Undersiders are villains. Doesn't trust me, doesn't trust Taylor. Doesn't trust the PRT. Hates Coil._

"Yes, that's me!" Tattletale replied, "I can tell you everything you want to know!"

Croft tilted her head, looking at her for a moment, almost prompting Tattletale to use her power again.

"Tell me about Dinah Alcott."

Oh. Well, she hadn't expected Taylor to spill the beans already, but she could work with this. The important part was not letting Croft have a reason to kill her. Tattletale felt as a cold drop of sweat ran down her back, despite the chilly weather.

"She's a middle schooler with some kind of precognition power, that means telling the future, and Coil found her."

Croft's lip twitched.

_Is annoyed. Thinks I'm childish._

"Where is she being held?"

Tattletale's eyes widened involuntarily as her power provided more context.

_Plans to save Alcott today. Will kill Coil._

"You can't just break into his base! He has failsafes! And that's not even taking into account his power?"

"Failsafes? Powers?"

"Like the Endbringer shelter downtown, which exploded while you were in it."

_Caused the explosion. Is distressed. Didn't mean to. Did it to kill someone. Did it to kill something. Did it to kill self. Wound in eye is self-inflicted._

Tattletale's brow furrowed, but she hurried to continue, now was not the time to try and help another suicidal cape.

_Not a cape. Abomination._

She forced her attention away from that stupid revelation to answer, "I don't know exactly what power Coil has, he said it was something about probablility and demonstrated by flipping a coin and calling the outcomes correctly."

Croft shook her head, "That won't matter, just tell me where he is, I'll figure the rest out."

_Is lying, intends to just rush in and save Alcott. Won't figure out the rest later._


	31. Chapter 25

Chapter 25: To Skin a Snake

A hummingbird flitted in between flowers, tasting each. A pale snake struck at it again and again, but the hummingbird always darted out of the grasping white jaws and fangs of the snake. Always, just out of reach. Finally, the snake ignored the hummingbird and moved back into the tree.

There it attempted to plunder a nest it found by chance in one of the upwards boughs of the tree. The hummingbird finally noticed the snake then, and its flesh twisted and bulged, beak and body elongating until they were replaced by feathers and scales. The hummingbird was no longer a hummingbird. Instead, it was a feathered serpent. It struck out at the pale snake, which was emaciated from its constant efforts, and wrapped its swift coils around the pale snake.

Most people think, on the surface, that service in the French Foreign Legion is a great idea. They don't really dig deeper into the stigma regarding what kind of people actually join the Legion. People hear about it in movies and books, and it's romanticized. The truth, however, is that the majority of the world believes that former Legionaries are crooks or corrupt.

These misconceptions probably came from the fact that the French Légion étrangère used to accept criminals and other unsavory types. In the modern era, membership in the Legion is much more heavily vetted, but those with dark pasts still slip in. This, in turn, leads to severely decreased job openings for veterans of the Legion.

Coil's forces contained six former Legionnaires, all which were forced to work as mercenaries. One such man was Sous-Lieutenant Brad Barker, an American by birth.

"All clear, NB-4, over," He reported in to his radio, adjusting his spotting scope. Another former Legionnaire, Pierre Lapierre, a French national, chewed on a protein bar nearby. It was a stale tasting peanut bar one.

A large anti-material rifle chambered in 50. Cal sat on a bipod between the two. They were perched inside a building which was once filled with large single pane glass windows, most of which were broken.

It was an ideal position to watch people arriving and departing Coil's primary headquarters. Barker panned the spotting scope down the long length of road. There had been false alarms all day, but most had turned out to be druggies or looters. One of the Merchant capes, Mush, had also been spotted, but Trainwreck helped divert him away from Coil's base.

Barker spotted movement at the entrance of a nearby alleyway and swung his spotting scope over towards that direction.

"One of the Undersiders," he reported into his radio, depressing the transmit button, "LM-30-3, looks like Skitter." Barker spared a moment to glance down at the flimsy "Know the Capes of Brockton Bay" printout from PHO. Yeah, it was definitely Skitter, he thought in his head. He also knew that if Coil knew that he was using a printout of PHO to identify capes instead of memorizing them, he would be fired. Or perhaps retired. He didn't know which would be worse, probably retired.

She certainly looked like Skitter, tall and grey, billowing black hair. Which was completely impractical, really, all the debris from the devastation left by Leviathan probably got caught in it all the time.

Barker, turned to say something to Lapierre, for a fraction of a second he caught a flash of dark clothing, then a sharp sudden pain in the back of his neck, he could hear the dull sound of metal on bone. The knife, for it, could only be a knife followed the contour of the back of his skull cleanly and slipped between the vertebrae. He died almost instantly, without being able to call for backup or alert his friend.

I wiped the blood from my knife, the mercenaries hadn't even noticed I was there. It was child's play to avoid clear lines of sight and make my way quietly through the destroyed buildings. It hadn't helped the mercenaries that the position they picked was exactly where I suspected an overwatch would be.

Just there bad luck really. Unlike a messy throat slash, a strike with a knife between the skull and the spine would kill instantly, with minimal fuss and much less blood. After all, someone killed with a strike to the throat sometimes had time to let out a gurgling scream, enough to alert the people around them. Or sometimes they might have enough presence of mind to thumb a panic button with their last dregs of strength.

Both of the recently deceased were wearing body armor and surplus military fatigues. The sniper was smaller so I stripped him of his gear, pulling the MOLLE vest and pouches free from his body before stripping myself.

I set the spotters MP-5 to the side. I would keep that, the laser rifle the other had was too finicky to use, I preferred a chemical blowback gun. Even if it was louder.

He wouldn't mind since he was dead, but his gear would be crucial for the next step. I had to blend in after all. His fatigues were made for a taller and more stout person, even if the chest was still tight for my build, but I made due. Expertly, fastening the buckles and pouches to my body. I relieved the spotter of his polished KA-BAR knife, which was also obviously military surplus and his pistol, which appeared to be Beretta Px4 Storm. It was rather high-end compared to the rest of his equipment. I slid it into my pilfered holster and made to stand. The last two things I grabbed: the half-finished protein bar, which I wolfed down as quickly as I could, and the spotter's radio.

After a brief second of hesitation, I also grabbed the sniper's radio, leaving it keyed into the general frequency. The other radio I set to another frequency. Immediately, as I switched it over, I heard Tattletale's voice. She was as peppy as before, I would almost say she was bubbly, if not for the utter fakeness of her tone.

"You're in? Already?"

"No," I responded curtly, "I'm within their first level of defense, I have a clear line of sight at the entrance now."

I dropped down the side of the building, the half gloves I was wearing allowing me to scrape down the side with only minor abrasions to my fingers. Once I was at ground level I pulled free the other apparatus I had brought along. A metal can with a hole cut in the bottom. It was stuffed full of steel wool, after the contents were drained, of course. It had been a can of peaches before, now it was a silencer.

I secured it to the end of the MP-5, it would still be louder than a professional silencer but it would have to suffice since I didn't have an ordinary silencer.

Slinking alongside the building's side, I ducked under the solitary security camera's vision. Once that would've been impossible, but the wreckage had left plenty of cover, including a ruined 2009 Chevrolet Corvette. The entrance, a plain metal door, had a metal flap over a keypad. Made to look like it was just part of a circuit breaker box. A hardline connected it to the concrete around Fortress Construction building.

Tattletale, however, had said that the people working overhead in Fortress Construction didn't even know that there was a massive supervillain base right under all their offices. This door didn't even lead into the building, instead, it led straight down. A slight little booth sat near the entrance, two guards inside stood watching behind dark plexiglass.

I activated survival instincts and as I did so I popped up from behind the Corvette and put a single muffled bullet between one of the disguised guard's eyes. The muffled crack of the silencer was still audible in the early morning air. Fortunately, for me the shattering of the glass covered up the sound of the gun firing and the other guard flailed, trying to unsling his weapon.

My next shot hit him right in the left clavicle, but my third shot nailed his head and he collapsed bonelessly. I could hear the radio's channels light up, demanding a status report. I keyed in, repeating the code from earlier, trying to cast my voice deeper, "NB-4, accidental discharge."

An amused voice came over the radio, "You're voice is a little high, NB-4. I hope you're not twerking on duty. We're sending someone up to check out the area."

I approached the doorway, letting myself be seen by the security camera. With the military surplus, I looked just like any other member of Coil's mercenaries.

Tattletale spoke through my radio, unprompted, "The code is 54329. Idiot. Thought he was being clever, making the code just one digit off from the second most common five-digit combination in the world."

"Operational silence, Tattletale," I muttered, not transmitting, even if I was meaning to use the code anyways. I could've just waited, but that would lead to a greater chance of being discovered.

I flipped the keypad up and thumbed the buttons in the required sequence. Frankly, I was a little disappointed that a keypad was all the security he seemed to have here. Of course, this was also just a tertiary entrance into the base, which was meant to serve more as an escape route for Coil rather than an actual point of egress.

The door clicked open and I pushed the heavy steel door inwards smoothly. It was well oiled and made hardly a sound.

"NB-4? Why are you abandoning your post? Your shift isn't over yet?" I heard the voice over the radio.

I cast my voice deeper, running with the earlier excuse, "I think I took a little too much of my stash, I'm seeing things."

"Coil is going to have your hide," the radio-man muttered, "NB-7, do you need another spotter?"

Unfortunately, NB-7 was probably the other man I killed, "NB-7, report."

"NB-7? NB-4, why isn't NB-7 responding?"

I ignored the radio, even as I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. A helmeted body turned the corner, and I placed one shot straight into his torso with the MP-5. His body armor took the hit, but the force made him stumble backward for a moment, off-balance. I took the opportunity to kick him in the face.

He let out a strangled shout before falling backwards down the stairs. I descended after him quickly, even as he tried to regain control of his descent. His hand finally locked on the guardrail just long enough for him to get his bearings before my new KA-BAR found its new home in the underside of his chin. The razor-sharp knife easily sliced through his helmet straps and through the soft tissue of the bottom of his mouth.

A dull meaty thunk was the only sound his body made before he collapsed bonelessly, tumbling down the rest of the stairs.

I heard voices from the bottom of the stairs, "Leeroy!"

A moment later a voice spoke over the radio. I could also hear it from the bottom of the stairs, an odd juxtaposition.

"Intruder Alert! Leeroy is down!"

I barreled down the rest of the stairs, narrowly ducking under the crackle-hiss of a discharging space-laser-gun. My shot, however, didn't miss and took his knee. He screamed over the radio, his other hand still on the transmitting button as the bones in his knee shattered. I rose up from my crouch in a single smooth motion and slammed the buttstock of my gun into his chin. His mouth clicked shut over his tongue with a spurt of blood.

As he stumbled backward, his laser rifle discharging into the wall as he tried to bring it to bear, I placed another bullet into his throat. Droplets of warm blood splattered all over my face. I stepped over his dying body, kicking the laser rifle away with one surplus army booted foot.

I unclipped the two round yellow spheres from his vest, along with the regular green hand grenades, so common throughout the world. The yellow was probably that foam the PRT used, the green of course fragmentation grenades. I pulled the pin easily, listening for a moment to the rush of feet before tossing it into the next doorway.

The screams of "Grenade!" were music to my ears. I half expected one of them to make the heroic sacrifice of jumping on the grenade so some of them might live, but that didn't happen. Instead, a muffled whump hit my ears and as I stepped around the corner I saw four downed mercenaries. Three looked like they were killed instantly by the shrapnel, the last still struggled weakly. I spared just a moment to end his pain, my knife sliding smoothly over his throat, bathing my boots in his spurting blood.

The base's emergency sirens were on fall blast, along with an obviously prerecorded message of, "Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!"

I activated survival instincts as I came to a junction, the steady yellow leading me towards my objective. My entrance from one of the emergency exits meant that the base's personnel were not at all prepared to repel me, even if they had probably had drills to deal with such an event.

The room I entered into had catwalks over a pool of cerulean liquid. Six mercenaries stood on the catwalk, all arranged with their weapons ready, aiming against the entrance. I hit the ground, my own semi-automatic MP-5 firing as I did so. A round hit the shoulder of one of the mercenaries, knocking him backward into the liquid. He screamed as he hit it, and one of the other mercenaries shot him a startled glance which was cut short by another of my rounds catching him just under the brim of his helmet.

One of the remaining mercenaries finally adjusted his aim and his beam hit me in the arm. I felt my flesh sizzle, and the scent of burnt meat filled the air. As deep into survival instincts as I was, I barely felt the pain, taking a fraction of a second to fire off a three-round burst, hitting two of the remaining mercenaries in the torso. As they sprawled I used their distraction to put a bullet into the spot that survival instincts prompted me. A small little cylinder under the barrel of one of the laser rifles.

In a flash of red light it exploded, searing the ground around the mercenary. I ducked my head the moment the flash registered. Even then, my flesh felt painfully raw wherever the red light reached. I looked like a burnt lobster. The mercenaries were worse off, they were charred, skin red and blackened, one of them moaned piteously.

I stepped over their broken bodies, continuing up the catwalk, and towards my destination.

I heard a frantic voice speaking into a phone, the click of a pistol. A man's voice speaking, "Pitter, get my oracle to safety!"

I kicked down the doors, slamming the butt of my MP-5 into the head of a mercenary on the other side. I felt a pain in my abdomen, the scent of burning, but the pain was fleeting. I pulled the trigger of my MP-5 and didn't let go, letting it fire on full auto, catching a mercenary with a pistol in the gut and sending a man in a black and white jumpsuit spiraling backward from a bullet to the gut.

"I take it you're Coil?" I said, striding forward, almost absently putting my last bullet from my MP-5's drum into the mercenary I downed with the buttstock.

"I'm just a body double!" He stammered.

I continued to approach, he twitched randomly as I approached. First almost seeming like he wanted to go for the gun, before shuddering. Then he made an aborted motion for his desk.

He pulled off his mask, revealing the face of a black man, his eyes were bloodshot, "Look, I'm Thomas Calvert, Coil's been keeping me here as his body double! He said he'd kill my family if I didn't obey him!"

Tattletale's voice sounded in my ear, "He's lying. Thomas Calvert is Coil. And he doesn't even have a family, besides some fish."

"Please," Coil, or Calvert, stammered, eyes darting over the room.

"Kill him! Kill him!" Tattletale hissed, full of vitriol.

"Where is Dinah Alcott," I growled, dropping my MP-5, since it was empty anyway, and drawing my pistol. Coil's eyes rested on the can silencer at the end for a moment, before his eyes snapped back to mine.

"If you-" he started.

"Tell me right now, or I'll kill you," I interrupted, fully intending to make good on that threat. He made to say something but stopped, choking on the words. After a scant second, he gave in.

"She's in level 3, room C," he said as he continued to crawl backward until his back hit the wall.

I leveled my pistol at him, "Wait!" he said, "I won't tell you where your stuff is if I'm dead."

"I have Tattletale for that," I said and pulled the trigger.

Click! Went the gun, as a black-gloved hand pinched the ignition chamber, preventing it from firing, and distorting the metal.

The black glove belonged to a woman in a black bodysuit, one of the superheroes. A grey tower was the only splash of color on her otherwise bland outfit. A visor covered her upper face, and a helmet concealed her hair. Her mouth was set in a hard frown.

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding anything but, "I think he would be more useful alive than dead."


	32. Chapter 26

Chapter 26: The Tower

Bugs swirled to my left, spelling out words, just behind the desk where the woman in black couldn't see. I focused my attention on the woman and on the bugs.

"Lisa says 'stall,'" the bugs spelled, "I will get Dinah out." I clenched my hands, nails digging into the skin there, I could oblige. Belatedly, I was relieved that Skitter seemed to realize that the appearance of this women either meant she worked with Coil, in which case she knew about Dinah and hadn't done anything. Or she had been waiting for me to break Coil's security, perhaps to take Dinah for herself.

"He really needs to die," I replied to the woman, stepping away from her in a clean sidestep. My pistol was useless now, so there was no point in keeping it. The woman in black remained where she was for a second, holding the mangled pistol in her hands.

"I'm Alexandria," The woman in black finally introduced herself, including just the slightest gesture towards herself with her free hand. She dropped the pistol in the other as she spoke, and it landed on top of Coil's bodysuit. I could clearly hear him hiss in pain, the stench of urine reached my nose the moment afterward.

"Of course," the woman, Alexandria, continued, almost tauntingly, "You'd know that if you were from around here."

I stilled for half a second, but that was enough, the corner of Alexandria's mouth curled up in a cruel smirk.

"What are you trying to say?" I snarled, slipping into survival instincts, I could see Alexandria's body covered in dark red, almost the same black as her costume with just a small spot of yellow around her lips. I knew, just knew, that for some reason brute force wasn't the way to go about killing her. It had to be something somehow connected to her mouth. It was a pity that survival instincts weren't clearer.

I pulled the only intact space rifle off the ground, turning it over in my hands, making sure the safety was off. I felt better with a weapon in my hands, even if survival instincts seemed to suggest that it wouldn't do squat against this woman.

"You know, we checked for nobility in England with the surname, 'Croft,' and guess what we found?"

I guessed from the context that they probably found nothing, which I had already suspected, based on my internet search. Which wasn't really a surprise even if it still made me sick to the stomach to think about. Unbidden, my thoughts flashed back to Noelle, my clone and then to Kukulkan. Had I somehow unmade my family, made it so they never existed?

"Nothing," Alexandria said, floating forward, feet rising off the ground, "I had my suspicions then, others said you were just a delusional nutcase, but that didn't really fit for me-"

"Really? I never would've guessed," I sniped back, still a little unbalanced by both my own thoughts and the revelation that whoever she was, Alexandria seemed to both have the power and connections to confidently prove that my family didn't and hadn't existed.

Your video, however," Alexandria continued, not even twitching from my interruption, "That revealed everything, you didn't know who I was or what a cape was."

"Maybe I was just a sheltered child?" I replied, slipping into survival instincts again, looking for anything I could use, a lone red fire extinguisher lit up yellow. Yeah, maybe I could use it to knock Alexandria's lights out. Almost always survival instincts gave me something useful, leading me towards success, so somehow I could use the fire extinguisher to kill Alexandria, but how?

I stepped towards it, Alexandria pivoted in the open air to follow me, her body always facing towards mine. I noticed Coil slowly dragging himself backward, but with a hiss of frustration, I ignored him. I'd take care of him later.

Alexandria chuckled then, it was not a pleasant sound, it was mocking, "That was a possibility put forward, but your interactions with Piggot and your face were just too expressive. You are an alien."

"ET? Area 51? Do I look like an alien?" I mocked her in turn. My brown eyes searched for hers underneath her dark visor.

The corner of her mouth twitched, this time not in amusement.

"A dimensional alien. We searched for this 'Key of Chak Chel' and for a heart sacrificing cult, we didn't find anything," Alexandria fairly growled, "And believe me, if either of those things existed on our Earth we would have found them."

Just the slightest tightening of the skin around my eyes gave away what I thought about that. It was in one word, concerning. Alexandria seemed completely confident that she could arrange a comprehensive continent-sized survey or she was just talking out of her arse. In other words, she was either delusional, bluffing, or had access to resources at a nearly impossible level.

"That doesn't explain to me why exactly you want Coil."

Alexandria turned to look behind her at Coil, who by this point was trying to pull himself into what looked like the door to a dumbwaiter. Alexandria turned away from him.

"You know what the Endbringers are, correct?"

"Yes," I replied, letting just a little irritation slip through in my reply.

"What you did was unprecedented, killing Leviathan. To be honest, we need you to do it again, and as it is Coil stands as the best bet for making that happen."

"Really?" I replied dryly, skepticism fairly dripping from my voice, building into a yell, "Seriously? I mean, SERIOUSLY!"

Alexandria didn't even twitch, still looking completely unaffected, "Yes."

"Are you going to explain?" I asked, a deadly calm settling over me, "Then you knew that he was here? And that he had Dinah?"

"Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made," Alexandria replied in a calm voice as if she was trying to reason with a child. My anger grew, she knew. She knew that Coil has a little girl and had addicted her to drugs and…

"You knew about the drugs?" I almost whispered, "What he was doing to her?"

"Sacrifices needed to be made," Alexandria replied. Believe me, I snarled in my own thoughts, I know all about sacrifices, but there were some lines you don't cross. Abusing kids in the name of some greater good was something I couldn't condone, even if it saved a million lives!

"You knew," I stated finally, voice tinged with disdain. That finally seemed to get through into Alexandria's head.

"You don't get to judge me," she said, "You have no idea the number of people I've had to let die, the numbers I've saved, and that my policies will save. Do you think this world is a hellhole? I can see it in your face. If I wasn't here making the hard decisions, it would be worse."

"So you let a child suffer in the hands of a predator because it isn't worth it to save her in the name of the greater good?"

Alexandria picked up a crystal skull desk ornament from its perch on Coil's wall, turning it over in her hands, before tightening her grip, there was a dull crack, and it fractured.

"I was an idealist once, I would've saved the child and let the distant many die," She answered me, "In this world, the real world, such childish notions have no place. This isn't a world of ideals, it's a world of cold hard logic and statistics."

There were no words I could say in the face of such brash and brutal utilitarianism. She was a monster. Oh sure, logically she might be right, but realistically only a complete psychopath would ever be able to follow her philosophy and live without making exceptions.

My hands closed around the fire extinguisher, pulling it from its roost, even as I said, "How exactly would it get worse?"

"Earth would be destroyed," Alexandria replied, letting countless glass shards fall from her hands from the destroyed skull. She cast a dismissive look at me, her eyes briefly passing over the fire extinguisher before she looked back at Coil, who was mostly inside the dumbwaiter by this point.

Alexandria's face remained impassive as she floated over to the struggling villain, pulling him out roughly, for a moment he seemed stuck but there was a sickening crack and a shriek as his body reappeared.

It was in this moment that I acted, while Alexandria's back was turned. Sure, maybe Coil could help reduce the deaths from the Endbringers, maybe Alexandria was telling the truth. However, I just absolutely hated, no it was more than hate, it was pure loathing. I also hated the idea that Alexandria would've been perfectly happy to leave such a monster here if it suited the 'greater good.'

My rifle raised in one hand, I fired, a nice little pinprick of light right into Coil's eye. There was the sizzle of burning flesh, a pained exhale, and then silence. Alexandria dropped the body, turning towards me glacially, almost floating in the air.

"You!" she snarled, I could finally see more than a vestige of emotion on her face, "What have you done? Contessa's steps…"


	33. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27:**

The greyscale of my survival instincts flowed almost glacially out from my body in a kind of pulse. Alexandria was a deep, deep red, every part of her body glimmered with crimson.

I wasn't usually one for philosophy, except when it talked about ancient tombs or Atlantis or something important like that, but I couldn't help but wonder whether in some ways my survival instincts meant something about people. My enemies were almost always bad people, and I wondered if that affected my hallucination.

Alexandria lunged, moving at normal speed, but for what was usually a quasi-bullet time for me she was frighteningly fast.

"You misguided child!" She snarled, fragments of concrete peppering my cheek, opening up small lacerations. I turned and ducked under the next rapid blow, even as I clenched the fire extinguisher in my hands, already turning the release.

I really didn't know what good a fire extinguisher was going to do, but I had been guided to it. My other hand grasped at my laser rifle. Alexandria batted it from my hand with a brutal backslap. I felt the bones in my wrist shatter from the force of her swing.

I feinted a blow towards her face, she flinched minutely, enough for me to take a step to the side, out of her immediate reach.

Alexandria was fairly frothing with rage, "You-you!"

She lunged again, this time seeming to be cognizant of my ability to dodge her blows. Again I tried to slip into survival instincts preternatural dodging. I wasn't fast enough, her fingers carved into my side. It was a glancing blow but no less debilitating, I felt my ribs shatter under the force of the blow. The pain made me gasp and I tasted blood.

She lunged again, this time grabbing me by the lapel and then slammed me into the concrete wall. My fingers still retained their death hold on the fire extinguisher, even as stars filled my vision.

She pulled me forward a few inches and then slammed me into the wall again. I could feel the bones in my chest snap, and I felt dizzy. The world inverted for a moment, which was sure was a sign of neurological damage.

"WHY?" Alexandria roared in my face. Of course, that would be the moment I saw it. The inside of her mouth was bright yellow. A weakness.

"Y-r a monst-" I managed to gurgle pass the red froth spilling out from my mouth. She opened her mouth to respond, probably with something pithy, like, 'the strong do what they will' or something like that. All I needed was just that one moment. I could see the shock and a trace of shame, and then the fire extinguisher was jammed into her face. I pulled the nozzle.

Crack.

Dimly I realized my arm was missing. The fire extinguisher and my entire arm were gone. It looked as if someone had just wrenched it clean off. There was nothing left from the armpit down.

Alexandria stumbled away, clawing at her throat. She smashed into the desk, sending wood splinters around the room. I clutched at my arm, trying to see where it had disappeared to. I felt numb, I had felt pain before, much worse, especially on Yamatai. However, I had never lost a limb like this, the pain was intense. I gasped.

A silvery door appeared in mid-air, right in front of the floundering Alexandria. Her eyes lit up and she stumbled through into a sterile white hallway.

I followed, blood spurting out from between my fingers. The edges of my vision were growing black. Blood loss, I thought to myself, what a way to go out. It wouldn't be poison or a booby trap or even wild dogs, it would be blood loss.

Alexandria was glancing around wildly, trying to heave. I heard a click against my feet. It was the sound of stone on stone. I glanced down, the Key of Chak Chel greeted my eyes.

Slowly, almost drunkenly I bent down and scooped it up, abandoning my shoulder. I stepped forward, the blade, a half piece of obsidian marred by my blood. Alexandria was still frantic, twisting and squirming, she was choking, and nobody was helping. The hallway was empty.

I could smell snakeskin and ammonia. Feathers caressed my bare skin. Were these the hallucinations of a dying woman?

The Key of Chak Chek seemed to pull me forward, towards the struggling Alexandria, I knelt, the blood splattering over her face. The blade descended.

Her flesh parted easily as if I was scooping dessert instead of stabbing a living being. The key practically sang I could feel it vibrate in my hand. It was hard to hold as if it was a beating heart. I forced it downwards, it met the floor under Alexandria. She gasped, once, loud and quick, and then her body seemed to melt away.

Not in the literal sense, but almost metaphysically, her toned muscles receded, her hair fell away. All that was left was a frightened bald emaciated girl. She couldn't have been older than twenty or nineteen.

She gasped again, almost seeming to say, "I don't want to go."

Her eyes clouded over. I lifted my hand to my face, blood-soaked and clutching the knife. I could feel darkness grasp at me again.

The world seemed to stutter as I knelt before my sacrifice to the heathen god, Kukulkan.


	34. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28:**

I had just finished slipping on my clothing, carefully so that it wouldn't tear like the memory foam bed and stone when I heard a click, almost imperceptible, and then a whoosh of air, turning the warm air of the room cold.

My boots squeaked as I turned and I frowned a little, they would need to be broken to work perfectly, soundlessly, as I preferred. Nevertheless, I completed my turn and stared at an opening in the wall where none had been before.

I recognized a portal when I saw it. There had been no door there before, and the cut wasn't completely perfect, not lining up with the tiled wall completely. In the portal door stood an unassuming man. He wasn't very tall, his hair was blond, he had horn-rimmed glasses, a plain red tie, and a blue suit.

He cocked his head to the side and gestured to me to approach him before introducing himself, "Greetings, Lara Croft, my name is Kurt, but you might know me better as the Number Man."

He paused for a moment, and when I didn't move an inch, just slowly let my hand drift towards my pistol, he grinned a little, looking chagrined, "Let's talk a little before you decide to kill me, the fate of the world is at stake, after all."

"You know," I replied, letting the tips of my fingers drift over my pistol, which I had been reunited with after far too long, "Alexandria talked about saving the world right before she was 'rescued' by a portal just like the one you're standing through."

The Number Man nodded, still looking remarkably at ease, "That's true, she was a former member of our organization."

"Former?" I asked, slinging my rifle over my shoulder and securing my satchel before walking towards the Number Man, "Explain, if you will."

The Number Man either didn't care about my frosty tone or believed that I wouldn't harm him since all he did was take a step to the side as I stalked forward.

"Apparently," he started, and I was able to notice a slight tightening around his eyes, disappointment maybe, but not necessarily subterfuge, "She somehow came to believe that Coil, whom you killed, was useful for our plan."

"Was he actually?" I asked, mind flashing to what he intended, nay, what he did to Dinah. If these people actually approved…

"No," the Number Man said, and to my consternation, I could not discern whether he was lying.

"In any case," he continued stepping to the side so he could walk alongside me down a featureless white hallway. The glare hurt my eyes a little, I imagined living in this place all day would be quite migraine-inducing, "You've killed her and so her actions, which were not sanctioned by our organization, mind you, are a moot point. The world is still in mortal peril."

"I don't care about that," I said, "the world is always in mortal peril. What happened to Dinah? Is she free?"

The Number Man continued walking, pausing for just a moment, as if he was listening to something, "Yes," he finally responded, "She was returned to her parents by your friend Skitter and Tattletale early Wednesday morning."

Wednesday morning? That would imply…

"How long did I sleep?"

"A little less than three days," the Number Man replied, seemingly unbothered by my derails. That was strange, I did not feel like I slept for so long, but I did seem to have regrown my arm, which was not normal.

"These new… powers? Are they your organizations doing?"

The Number Man pushed his glasses back like an anime protagonist, or maybe antagonist, depending on what anime you watched. No, I didn't watch anime but Jonah did, hence I still learned a lot of stuff by osmosis. I still found it funny that a big guy like him watched anime in his spare time in addition to bodybuilding.

"Not entirely," he replied, "We assumed you had something to do with it. After all, they appear to have a remarkable similarity to Alexandria's powers."

There it was again. I kind of really doubted that they had no idea what Coil was doing and that Alexandria was 'rogue.' If they didn't order her to ensure Coil survived explicitly than they definitely did so by inattention and willful ignorance. There was no way I was going to work with these people. Play nice until I found out where I was and then get out of here.

"You walk quietly," the Number Man observed, "By any chance are you a hunter?"

"Yes," I replied, noting how the hallway ahead of us was both devoid of windows and also seemed to curve slightly so it wasn't just a long corridor to shoot down. Good for defending and attacking as needed.

"And what did you hunt?"

I grinned, it was a cold grin, full of malice, I looked at him, meeting his eyes, "Why the most dangerous prey of all."

The Number Man regarded me for a moment longer and then turned away, "I did so once as well. It is a past I managed to leave behind when I joined Cauldron."

"Cauldron? You named your organization after a cooking pot?" I demanded incredulously, I bit down a mocking question about whether it started out as a cooking club.

The Number Man smiled but didn't answer as we arrived in front of a door, it was a metallic grey and slid open as we approached it. Inside was a room with a circular table, overlooking a lush jungle, teeming with birds and insects. There was even a waterfall within view. It was like what James Bond would encounter when he found a villain on some exploited island paradise.

Around the white stone table sat four people, one man, and two women. One was a man in a green cowl with a green cape, his face was obscured by shadows but two green lights shined from where his eyes would be. The other was a black woman with a severe-looking face and glasses perched high upon her nose. The other woman was tanned with high cheekbones and grey eyes. She wore a crisply tailored suit and sat demurely looking into space.

"This is Cauldron," The Number Man said, "And we'd like to ask for your help with saving the world."

The man in the green cowl clenched his fists, making the material creak.


End file.
